“So?” says Ilyric, straightening his tunic. “Where do we begin searching for the traitor among us?”

“It’s a waiting game. As the little doe said, we have to wait for our rat to slip up,” Lucien answers, a slight tilt to his lips, an amused look in his eyes as he gazes toward me.

Jace falls beside me, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed toward Lucien. “So what exactly do we do?” he grits out, his tone clipped.

Lucien finally pulls his gaze from me. “We go with instinct. If something or someone doesn’t feel right, then they go on our suspect list until we narrow it down to just one.”

The room goes quiet, the weight of the discussion and work ahead of us, turning the atmosphere somber.

Suddenly a small clatter rings out in the distance from the hallway, drawing all our attention.

We all quickly realize someone could have been listening in on our conversation. We all rush into the hallway to see the main Library door swinging.

Somebody overheard us. And if it was our possible traitor, then they know that we know they're here. If it wasn’t the traitor, then we have a problem of a different sort on our hands.

And from the commotion coming from the main Library and raised voices we can hear from here, it looks like it's the latter's problem.

We all enter the main Library, the angry and anxious voices becoming louder and clearer as we make our way to the center of the room and the loud commotion. All eyes turn to us the closer we get, anxiety, anger, and accusation written on the gazes rushing to us.

“A traitor?” says the elderly pixie from earlier. As he looks at the people around him, a pallid and uneasy expression is drawn on his face.

“Who is it?” shouts a dark-haired lady to the back.

Scared and restless eyes fill the room. People stay huddled with only their known companions and fellow Library staff. Accusations begin to be thrown about, and one elderly lady stands up, pointing a thin finger toward a young man on the opposite side of her. “You spent far too long looking around this Library earlier!”

The wide-eyed brown-haired boy opens his trembling mouth, “Are you accusing me of being the traitor? I’ve been an assistant librarian in Sector Three for over four and a half years now! Anyone in Sector Three can attest to it.” His eyes frantically flicker from the small old lady to the woman beside him.

“That's true. Adam has been a loyal worker for many years.” A woman with green eyes, freckles, and a blue bob cut jumps forward, defending the young man. “But what about you? You took a little too long in the bathroom earlier, right?” Her eyes narrow toward the woman.

The elderly woman flinches back, her lips twisting in disgust as she narrows her eyes at the sprite.

Accusations begin to hurdle from one person to the next, their fear and uncertainty engraved on their faces as they continue to raise their voices over each other.