They set a second table in the great hall before the oil on the boards had fully cooled.
Sable watched the work from the chair Cassian had forced on her after the lamp fell and hated it with enough clarity that the feeling almost steadied her. The broken center of the old table had already been dragged aside. The smashed iron ring lay against the wall under guard with the cut chain coiled beside it, not hidden yet, not carried off to be forgotten in some lower corner. Cassian had refused that at once. The hall would see what Rowan had tried to do here. It would also see that the room still stood.
