Page 29 of Broken Crown

I contemplate telling him my dreams have changed, too.That I don’t just see this man point a gun at me, then light the SUV on fire with Adam and me inside.That now I see him shoot Creed in my bedroom.I can only imagine how that would go over, especially with my father.It would most likely confirm his theory that it’s simply my subconscious playing tricks on me.

Most of the time, I’m inclined to believe it.

But I know what I saw tonight.

And I saw the man from my dreams.

The man who tried to kill me.

The man who killed Adam.

The man who I fear might kill Creed, if my dreams are a predictor of the future, as crazy as that sounds.

“Are you sure youreallysaw him, though?”Anderson asks as delicately as possible.“I was standing right beside you.The lighting in the theater was dimmed.The only faces I could make out were those in our box.”

“I know what I saw, Anders,” I seethe through a tight jaw.“I may have only stared into those eyes for a split second before he pulled a gun on me, but that split second replays in my mind every moment of every day.And the man I saw tonight had the same eyes.And the same scar I’ve seen in my dreams.I’m sure of it.”

“Have you seen this man before you started having these dreams?”His expression exhibits all the compassion I’ve come to expect from my brother and closest friend.But I still sense his disbelief.

“When he tried to kill me,” I snip back.“Before that, when he set the SUV on fire and killed Adam.”

“Esme…” He narrows his gaze on me.“I’m on your side here.I just want you to be absolutely certain you’ve seen this man somewhere other than in your dreams.”

I know what he’s getting at.The man who attempted to kill me was wearing a dark beanie and had a scarf covering the lower half of his face.When Adam and I were being chased, I’d only managed to look behind us for mere seconds before we were hit.Not nearly long enough to get a good look at the person driving.

The only reason I think this man with a scar is responsible is because I see him in my dreams.

The sound of the door opening cuts through, and Major-General Lawson enters the reception area, Creed and the other guard members following close behind.His tall stature is an imposing presence in the room, just as Creed’s is.They share many of the same features, but whereas Creed’s hair is longer and he sports a bit of scruff along his jawline, his father keeps his head clean-shaven with no facial hair.

“Sir.”He bows toward my father.“We’ve completed the search, as requested.”

I don’t mistake the hint of venom in his voice and the icy look he gives Creed.

“What did you find?”My dad moves toward him.

“We did a discreet sweep of the audience, as well as searched all backstage areas for a man matching the description the Princess Royal provided.”He briefly glances my way.“I regret to inform you, we couldn’t find him, nor do any of the ushers, staff, or performers recall seeing anyone with a scar.If it were any other kind of description, I’d be inclined to keep looking, but considering he reportedly has a prominent…abnormality, I think we can all agree that if a man with a long scar along his jawline had been here, someone would recall seeing him.”

“I agree.”My father extends his hand toward him, and they shake.“Thank you, Major-General.”

“Of course, sir.”

My father turns in my direction, beaming a bright smile.“See, dear?It was nothing.Just your brain playing tricks on you.”

I part my lips to argue to the contrary, but before I can, he continues, “Captain Walsh?”

Archie steps forward.“Yes, sir?”

“Can you please take Esme home?She’s had a trying evening and needs her rest.”

I shake my head, bolting to my feet.“Dad, I don’t need—”

He holds up his hand.“Take the night off.You’ve been working very hard.Not getting enough sleep can cause your mind to play tricks on you.Make you think you saw something that isn’t real.”He turns to head back into the royal box.

“Itisreal,” I insist, following him.“He was here.He—”

He whirls around before I can utter another syllable.“Go.Home.”His voice thunders through the reception area.“It’s not a request.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if they heard him in the theater.Or, at the very least, in the royal box.

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