His father looked at him at last, his face grave. “Your wife is pregnant.” The shock roiled through Chaol like a physical blow. Yrene—Yrene— “A skilled healer she might be, but a deft liar, she is not. Or have you not noticed her hand frequently resting on her stomach, or how green she turns at mealtime?” Such mild, casual words. As if his father weren’t ripping the ground out from beneath him.
I KNEW IT!!! I EFFING KNEW IT!!!
