“Until they are ripe, yes.”

“And fae stay out there with them?” He glanced back at the field with horror etched into the lines in his forehead.

“Indeed.” I nod. “My brothers are out there.”

“Madness!” he whispers.

“I told you, the people of Storm are different. The weather doesn’t disrupt our magic like it does for other fae. Some are trained to guard the fields. It’s a vital job for the Kingdom’s survival.”

“But to be out in the storms with hardly any cover?” He didn’t turn away from the fields.

“There are shelters embedded into the hills if they need them. Do you judge the shepherds who stay in the fields with their flock though all weathers? The gems are our flock.”

He wrinkled his nose, trying to work out the logic. “But shepherds don’t have life threatening storms to deal with.”

“Aren’t you just a tender little fae? It’s necessary to keep us alive.”

He narrowed his eyes in a glare. “Don’t patronize me.”

I laughed.

“So what do these valuable stones actually do?”

“For us, they mean life. Most other kingdoms can harness the sun’s power with little trouble. Here, we have so little sunlight, we rely on magic to maximize it for the energy the kingdom needs. We also can’t have crops outside because the winds and violence of the storms would destroy the delicate plants, so they have to be protected, and we bring the power of the sun inside with the stones.

“But they are a commodity, too, because they can be ground and used as a protective coating to ward against spells. The storm power in the opal disrupts the spell and protects whatever it is coating. One of the things they use it on are the eggs in the nurseries, actually. An extra layer of protection gives them the best chance of hatching.

“And when it is mixed with other stones,” I continued, “it mimics the properties of whatever it’s mixed with, making it extremely powerful for creating amulets and other magical tools.”

He cocked his head, staring off into the distance like he was thinking about something a little too hard. “Wait?—”

“What?”

“Take me to the gems. I need to see one.” He grabbed my hand.

“Why?” I hesitated, not sure if I should. Fae were allowed out there of course, but I was still not sure if I fully trusted him.

He looked at our hands as we walked and closed his eyes like he was shaking off a memory he couldn’t quite grasp.

“What is going through your head?” I asked, trying not to sound too desperate to know. But how I wished I had a window into his thoughts.

“The eggs—they were painted.”

“Right. They coat them with the opal, like I said.”

“Does the coating change the color of the eggs?” he asked like he was leading me some place.

“No, the coating is clear when applied thin like it should be. It disrupts outside attacks and spells and prevents harm to the egg.” I didn’t even know if it really worked, but it’d been tradition from before the Twelve Kingdoms were formed.

“The egg I touched had some straw attached, and when I picked it off, it was a different color under the paint.” he said, still sounding far away with his thoughts.

“Are you sure?”

“For the hundredth time today, I’m sure about everything I saw, Hazel.”

“Okay.” I blew out a breath. “So what are you getting at?”

“I don’t know. But if the eggs are all painted, it wouldn’t be that hard to disguise them and make them look like eggs from other dragons.”