I have been wrongly judged. Aslan knows I have. God knows I have. I know I have. Edmund, and Peter, and Lucy – by God, even dear, sweet Lucy – all think I've forgotten about Narnia. They have no faith in me. They all consider me a shameless s-l-u-t. Not that I blame them, really. All of my "friends" think the same. I suppose I simply expected better from my beloved siblings. I expected High King Peter the Magnificent to believe in me. I expected King Edmund the Just to believe in me. And Aslan only knows how much I expected Queen Lucy the Valiant to believe in me.

I am still Queen Susan the Gentle. Of course I am. Why would I want to even think about forgetting that whole person that I once was – that I am – in a magical place? That person was wonderful, and gentle, and beautiful, and kind, and empathetic. I would never even consider becoming someone else, or letting myself change, or letting someone change me. It wasn't possible. Queen Susan the Gentle was too good a person to simply forget. She deserved to exist, to thrive, to rule.

Not, of course, that my dear siblings would know any of this. I love them to the death – of course, I do – but they always did see me as shallow. I did too, at one point. But that was before Narnia, before the War Drobe, before Spare 'Oom, before Cair Paravel, before Mr. Tumnus, before Aslan. That was pre-Susan. Post-Susan – Queen Susan the Gentle – never left and never will leave. She is too important. I just hoped that Peter could see through it all. I hoped that he would realize that it was all an act, a test given to me by Aslan. That's right. Before I left Narnia for the final time, Aslan gave me a task. He wanted me to pretend to lose my way, to pretend to forget. He wanted to test my fellow sovereigns' faith in me. I suppose they've failed the test.

It's hard for me – immensely hard – to hurt them the way I do. But I know that I cannot – I must not – tell them the truth. I will keep the promise I made to Aslan long ago. I hope every day that one day, they will be able to see through it all, to see that I am Queen Susan the Gentle. The fourth child of Adam has not passed on.

But that was all before the accident. To be honest, accident seems like a lie. I know that I was not a mere fault, a wrong track taken by the conductor. This was Aslan's doing. Of course it was. Only Aslan could make all of the Seven Friends of Narnia – that's what they called themselves, and it hurt my heart so that I could not partake in this group – die all at one time, all in the same accident, all together. And he took our parents as well. I had worked for years to follow his word and the promise I made to him under another sky, and another sun, and he thanked me by snatching from me everything I had to live for.

And that's precisely why I found myself where I was on that warm summer day. As the doorbell resonated through the old and huge home, I bounced on my feet on the threshold. Mrs. Macready, the old woman who used to be a maid for Professor Kirke, yanked open the heavy wooden door, fixating her beady eyes on me. I thought for a moment that I saw a flash of recognition somewhere on her hawk-like face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

I stuck out my hand. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Macready. I'm not sure in the entirety that you remember me. If I recall correctly, you weren't exactly fond of my siblings and I." For a moment, a smile flashed across my face, before I remembered that I wasn't supposed to be happy. "A few years ago – goodness, has it really been eight already? – my two brothers, Peter and Edmund, and my sister Lucy, along with myself, stayed here with the Professor while the air raids were happening in London."

"Yes, yes," muttered the old woman. "Of course I remember. You sniveling little children." She looked me up and down. "Well, you're all grown up now, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Yes ma'am. It has been eight years." In a sudden instant, the memories washed over me, evoking pain from the deepest parts of my mind, but also happiness, an emotion I hadn't felt in a very long time. "But I've come for a very specific reason, you see."

"Well, what is it?"

I took a deep breath. "I need the wardrobe, Mrs. Macready. Please. I just need to see the wardrobe once. You know the one, I assume? My entire family, as well as the Professor and a dear friend passed away in a recent train wreck. We had so many fun games we played in the wardrobe, and I need to…make peace with the memories and everything they left behind."

Mrs. Macready looked pained. "Yes, I heard about the wreck. All of those poor people, and the Professor, too! Of course you may come in, dear. Take all of the time you need. It's just me all alone in this big old house now, so no one will mind."

I stepped inside and glanced around. The place looked the same – high rafters and suits of armor and millions of bookshelves. "You know the way, then?" Mrs. Macready asked from behind me.

I nodded slowly. "Yes. I don't think to be long, but…."

The woman shrugged. "I understand, dear. The memories will decide how long you'll be. I'll be in the study, so please come tell me when you are through."

I climbed slowly up the stairs, rounding the corners and walking with wide eyes. I could still see Edmund tripping little Lucy over her own two feet just up ahead, and over there Peter strolled through the intersecting corridor, head held high and shoulders thrown back. Even at the age of fourteen, he still looked like a king.

And there it was: the room with the wardrobe. Turning the knob slowly, I slipped inside, shutting the door after me. The wardrobe stood against the far wall, wooden and majestic and elegant. Now that I knew what to look for, I could spot faint etchings in the oak that reminded me of Narnia.

I was drawn towards the gateway against my will, though I wouldn't have protested if I had moved myself. The door creaked open, revealing row after row of fur coat. There were a few very subtle differences – a slight gap in the fur showed where my siblings and I had "borrowed" four coats when they first went into Narnia, and of course they couldn't get them back when that entrance closed. Something else was different as well: air drifted from the wardrobe, and it was the musty, stuffy air one expected from an enclosed space. It was pure, and fresh, and open.

With a beating heart, I gently pushed aside the coats, stepping inside of the wardrobe. And even though I knew that I was very silly to shut oneself in a wardrobe, I did it anyway. I shoved my way through the fur until something else was tickling my face: leaves.

Aslan had been wrong. One could get into Narnia again by this door. My heart leapt with hope as I darted forward, stumbling along until I finally, finally came out into the open air. The smell was familiar, and wonderful. I had missed it.

The sky was blue and clouds drifted lazily across it. These clouds were special – they always made shapes. The path was familiar to me as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I spotted a landmark soon enough: a metal lamppost with a flame burning in it, as it had always burned. This trail brought back bad memories – chasing the White Stag, wearing fine clothes, and losing the most wonderful life I had ever known.

"Susan."

The voice was the most recognizable one in the world. It smelled like springtime, and rumbled, and it was the mightiest voice anyone could ever even imagine hearing. I turned expectantly, searching the woods desperately for a golden mane and a kind face.

"Daughter of Eve."

"Aslan! Aslan, where are you?"

"I am here, dear heart. I am here." Before I knew what I was looking at, Aslan in all of his glory was standing in front of me.

"Oh, Aslan, you have no idea how wonderful it is to see you!" I cried.

A laugh rumbled in his golden chest. "I am so very proud of you, Queen Susan the Gentle. You never lost faith in me, even though the task I assigned you might have been impossible. You are brave."

I smiled gratefully. "I never stopped believing, Aslan. After the wreck, I questioned my test, but I never questioned you."

"And that, dear one, is why I picked you for this test."

"Aslan, please tell me something: is my family here? Are they in Narnia?"

The Lion ruffled his mane. "Of course, Susan. Where else would they be?"