"Can ye no eat?” Conaire’s face was a mask of worry as he glanced at Nona’s untouched bowl. “Ye must keep up your strength, for the sake of the babe.”
The smell of the hot porridge caused her gut to wobble, and she pushed it away. “No, not now. Maybe later.” Another whiff of porridge undid her, and she leapt up, holding her stomach with one hand and her mouth with the other. She barely got outside before she had to double over.
Conaire followed her out. He rubbed her back and made soothing noises as she retched. Once the nausea had passed, she accepted the cloth he handed to her and wiped her mouth before straightening.
“Is this normal?” he asked, gesturing at the mess on the ground. “Every morning the same, and some nights, too. Ye are wasting away, wife!”
The anger in his voice stu
