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Plural.
I nearly leave Grimm for the libraries.
Then I discover my own Alchemy laboratory.
“You didn't.”
“Of course, I did.”
I walk inside.
It's beautiful.
Worktables.
Shelves.
Ventilation.
Storage.
An enormous stone workbench.
Windows overlooking the woods.
Everything I could possibly need.
“Grimm.”
“For your research.”
I run my fingertips over the workbench.
“You built me a lab.”
“You deserve one.”
“Stop making me cry.”
“I'm beginning to think you cry when you're happy.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“Shut up.”
He kisses my forehead. I allow it.
Barely.
Eventually, he takes me upstairs.
Our bedroom overlooks the woods, and, in the distance, I can just make out the spires of the Royal Academy.
My Academy.
My life.
