The Broken Eye - Pg 458

   "Sorry, 'mother'," Kip said. He was trying to make a joke of it, but the word was so sharp-edged that Karris couldn't even hear the joke. None of Kip's tone could make it past the roaring of the blood in her ears. Just that one, lancet word piercing a boil.

   "You are not my son!" Karris spat. Her heart was bile and she was vomiting it out on him, foul and acid, and it tore her throat and ate everything it touched. 

   Kip had the same look on his face as she'd seen on men mortally wounded, staring at their own guts in ropes in their hands, shocked they weren't already dead, but dying nonetheless.