It was hidden with the bowls of one of the grey buildings on Academy grounds, a building fashioned after a castle, with battlements, and soldiers marching the walls as though it was truly a spot worth defending.
They'd even had to pass through a portcullis and over a drawbridge to get here, in the horse and cart that Lombard had sent him in.
In all ways but memory, people were treating him like a noble.
Since Blackwell had left him last week, after their conversation, the Lord had done all he could to ensure Oliver a timely spot at The Academy. He'd kept them up to date with several quickly penned letters – letters that Marianne had been burdened with reading out to Oliver, as he spent his days quietly recovering.