A shield slammed down over those memories, jolting her out of the dream, leaving Adara frustrated. She pounded the mattress beneath her. Why couldn't she remember past that point?
The rest of her recollection proved so vivid. She could feel the cold stone still on her cheek. Taste the salt of her blood. And yet she couldn't see the face within the hood.
Couldn't remember who was responsible. The person who deserved her wrath. A man with no compassion. She'd remember that when she found him.
Her scant memories made it obvious that he wasn't the one who'd helped her escape. So, who did come to her aid?
Not Desmond. Or her king.
But given how Mammon and his cloaked ally had broken her, she couldn't see how she'd ever managed to escape on her own.