But those dreams would be needed in the world. She knew that with unshakable certainty. They would be needed—and it was unlikely even the simplest of those dreams would ever exist because she hadn’t reached the caves as she’d intended. She wouldn’t make the same transition as the rest of her race, transforming her scales into Jewels that would serve as a reservoir for the power the new caretakers could not contain in their smaller, weaker bodies. The Jewels that came from her should have been the vessels that contained her gift and would have changed the wearer into a Seer that could shape dreams into flesh. Now . . .

Did her mother know she was trapped on this island, exposed and dying? Did her sire, the great Prince of the Dragons, sense her fading presence in the world? Would they feel disappointment in her that, during moments of despair and heartache and hope, she was trying to pass her gift to a small, golden spider?

She should have stayed in the dark mountain that was the lair of the Prince and the Queen. She should have curled up in one of the deep hollows within that mountain and followed the rest of her race into the forever sleep. Instead she had followed a vision of a cave filled with dreams—a vision that would never come to pass.

Soon now. Soon. Her body was failing. Her power was fading. Soon she would be free of the world. Soon.

Closing her gold eyes, she drifted on dreams.

Chapter 6

6

So much sorrow gave the flesh a bitter taste, but the spider remained, burrowing deeper beneath the scales for meat that still seeped blood, was still fresh. And it wasn’t all bitter. When the daring male had approached her and indicated his willingness to mate, Dragon’s flesh had been tastier that day, as if the mating had drawn sweeter memories to the surface.

Since she wanted her hatchlings to feed on this flesh that was making her more than just a spider, she worked to find a way to reach the memories, to see the dreams.

Dragon had shown her before. Why wouldn’t Dragon show her now?

Frustrated, she climbed up to Dragon’s jaw, anchored a strand of silk, and began to build a web. But as she built the web, she . . . felt things. So she spun them into the web, ignoring instinct and placing the threads where they needed to be. Sorrow. Pain. Longing. Need. Hope.

As she cautiously traveled the strands of the completed tangled web, warmth flowed through her. She paused, absorbed the feel of this sensation, and added one more small thread. Joy.

Suddenly she saw the caves, the place Dragon had intended to go to do the finest dreaming. And in those caves, she saw golden spiders, much larger than herself, spinning tangled webs.

Sound, faint and fading, filled her.