IoG:RtE Chapter 3 : "The prison of silk and gold"

Fortunately, Kara's yell didnt reach to her parents' bedroom.
They would have been angry like never... She could have imagined
their angry voices if it had'nt been of the reason why she woke
up with a start. She was sweating heavily, her lips trembled and
she murmured again... "Will"

She didnt understand what she had dreamt about, some guy with blonde
hair that she knew in her dream but not in real life. He and her
were walking in the desert, the shape of a pyramid disapearing
behind them as they closed in on the nearest city.

All this was very confusing. Was he Will ? Was she just imagining
things ? How could one feel so strong for another without having met
at least once ??? She couldnt sleep the rest of the night. Her
toughts kept to what she had seen. When the sun rose, she was still
awake, unable to fall asleep.

She didnt feel at all like sleeping, so she got out of her four-
-poster bed, and put on a robe and slipppers. Kara went down the
gigantic stairs leading to the entry hall of the mansion, and
headed towards the dining room. As she walked past a portrait of
her father in the corridor, she couldnt help but express a look
of disgust on her face, the same she had every morning when she
saw the pompous canvas.

She hated the house, this classy mansion and all it's phony
decorations. She hated her bed and the clothes she wore. She hated
how the maids adressed to her... "miss" "miss, please ?" "yes miss"
She hated the portraits of her oh-so illustrious ancestors in the
mansion corridors, all men, she remarqued, not a single woman.
Perhaps, she tought, these idiots never thought of their wives as
humans.

She hated the house. She hated her life. She hated her father.

Her father in question was a state governor. She never appreciated
the way he treated her, as if she never did or said anything right.
She was being treated like an error. Her mother had died giving birth
to her, and her father had re-married. 

Claire, her stepmother was as terrible as her father. She never went
anywhere out the house without putting three inches of makeup on her
face, and she was always there with her husband at officialities.
Kara had never develloped any liking to her stepmother, because she
disaproved the phony maners she employed. She disaproved the way Claire
seemed to love her father for his money and political influence.

She went for breakfast, and found no one downstairs, to her great relief.
She found a note on the table: "Gone to brunch, be back in the afternoon"

They didnt even think of inviting her, but she liked it better that way.
She didnt feel like sitting at a talbe filled with phonies, surrounded by
high-society jerks, having to answer to the people who adressed her, not
knowing what the hell they were talking about while secretly pondering
her dream. She prefered being alone, without counting the maids and doormen.

She ate her breakfast sourly, passing over the events of her dream while
somewhere else in the vast world, Will was thinking of the best way to get
in touch with her.