Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

Though Celaena didn’t smile, her eyes crinkled. “What do you know of a creature that dwells in the lake under …” She glanced at Rowan to finish. “Bald Mountain. And he can’t know that story,” Rowan said. “No one does.” “I am a Story Keeper,” Emrys said, staring down at him with all the wrath of one of the iron figurines on the mantel. “And that means that the tales I collect might not come from Fae or human mouths, but I hear them anyway.” He sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him. “I heard one story, years ago, from a fool who thought he could cross the Cambrian Mountains and enter Maeve’s realm without invitation. He was on his way back, barely clinging to life thanks to Maeve’s wild wolves in the passes, so we brought him here while we sent for the healers.” Malakai murmured, “So that’s why you wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.” A twinkle in those old eyes, and Emrys gave his mate a wry smile. “He had a fierce infection, so at the time I thought it might have been a fever dream, but he told me he found a cave at the base of the Bald Mountain. He camped there, because it was raining and cold and he planned to be off at first light. Still, he felt like something was watching him from the lake. He drifted off, and awoke only because the ripples were lapping against the shore—ripples from the center of the lake. And just beyond the light of his fire, out in the deep, he spied something swimming. Bigger than a tree or any beast he’d ever seen.”

Where they found Goldryn