The next night
"Wake up, Saint," I said softly in our shared consciousness. I could barely contain myself. I had felt the swell of magic. Had felt it when it took root.
"Saint," I said again.
The man slept like a rock at the bottom of a spring.
"Mgmgs," he mumbled.
Forcing our arm to move, I slapped our face.
He shot up, his teeth bared. "Who's there?" he called out.
"It's me, you buffoon," I said.
Our head cocked to the side. "Ten? Why are you waking me up? Can't whatever it is wait until morning?" He snuggled back down into the comfortable bed in our new home.
"No." I shook our head so he would fully wake up. "Wake up!"
He sat up, pulling the blankets with him. "I'm awake. What can't wait until the morning, Ten?"
"Kiema is pregnant."
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
I snickered as everyone in the room burst from the bed, fists and knives raised in defense.