Wren blinked in surprised at Rowan's suggestion. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that we've done it before. *You've* done it before… with the new alcove you created in the garden." Rowan grabbed Wren's hand and squeezed it as he reminded him about the special place they'd made where the wisteria tree grew from Yamm's sacrificed antler. "We can do it again. Here. In my woods."
Mara inched closer to Rowan as he spoke, clearly thinking he wouldn't notice. Ozul quietly cleared his throat. She rolled her eyes at him, but stopped inching.
Wren's eyes latched onto Rowan's. A fragile kind of eagerness danced in the amber depths, quivering like the wings of a butterfly. After a moment, he shook his head in denial.
"I am flattered that my Caretaker has such faith in me, but don't you think Alaric and the others are better suited to helping you with this problem?"
"No." Rowan's voice was firm. "I don't."
