Princess Ophelia likely wore an item enchanted with an ⌈Obscuration⌋ effect, blocking attempts at scrying for her location and analysis magic. Tycondrius wore similar, the effect granted by an amulet he wore around his neck.
He glanced down, spying the ring the elf wore on her left hand.
That was probably it.
"Oy," She glared. "My eyes are up here."
"Ah, of course," Tycon smiled apologetically. "Ophelia! You look, uh... moisturized. I heard about the face cream."
The elf slammed her tiny hand upon a nearby surface, literally gnashing her teeth in rage, "Don't play games with me, Tycondrius! Where the HELLS is my fiancee?"
Thin green vines slithered down her arm and began to bore into the wood. Within seconds, the sturdy table was irrevocably ruined, torn apart and crushed.
From the look on her face, the effect was unintentional.