The clairvoyance and clairaudience were tricks he’d learned in his youth. The latter he’d been taught by the ancient Miralyith Jerydd as a means of maintaining communications over long distances. The former was taught to him by Trilos. While powerful, the abilities were limited. It wasn’t like he could think of someone and see them. The magical weave possessed no location threads. He could focus on a place he knew and hope to spot the individual. The same was true for his ability to listen in, although harder to accomplish because he’d need to hear voices and be able to identify them. None of this had been a problem when he and Jerydd had talked because those had been two-way communications. Spying had always required a bit of luck.

Mawyndulë didn’t think there were other exits from her chambers but . . . she might have climbed out a window.

The princess wasn’t a fool. Mawyndulë would even go so far as to say she was quite intelligent. She had to know that if she delivered the horn, his next step would be to kill her, and then find and murder her father and brother. So the odds were good that she would try to evade him. But Mawyndulë knew the princess. He’d studied her for several years, followed her exploits, and knew she had a weakness—the Teshlors. She didn’t simply love them. She wanted to be one. And she would sacrifice herself for them just as they would for her.

Then, as he was starting to suspect he had misjudged her, the door to her chamber opened, and the princess appeared back in the corridor, holding a stone box. She headed directly for the throne room, making no unauthorized side trips. Within minutes, she arrived, the treasure clutched in her arms.

Mawyndulë was so pleased, and even a bit surprised, at her total capitulation that he almost failed to notice the change in the room.

Power had entered. Something was amiss, but he couldn’t tell just what.

He peered at her.

The princess stared back.

“There’s nothing in that box, is there?” Mawyndulë said.

Farilane shook her head. She let the box fall. The lid broke open on the marble floor, revealing an empty interior.

Mawyndulë felt he was missing something. The pieces weren’t fitting properly. Farilane wouldn’t just give up. She’s too smart for this. It’s time to call her bluff.

“Say goodbye to Kolby.” Mawyndulë flexed his fingers, but Farilane was quicker. With a clap of her hands, the stone encasing the Teshlor shattered.

Kolby staggered, gasping for breath.

“Get out! Now!” Farilane ordered.

Kolby hesitated, then the floor itself threw him out. The golden doors immediately slammed shut after his exit, once again echoing ominously. But this time, Mawyndulë hadn’t been the one to shut them.

“You’re not the princess.” Mawyndulë waved a hand, stripping away the princess-illusion.