The long trip east was painful for its repetition. Susan spent most of it in her room, a private suite, at least, watching the water lap against the side of the ship.

Narnian ships were much more comfortable. They cut through the waves like swords, gliding swiftly in the cool winds. Susan had loved being out at sea, journeying out to the Lone Islands, or just sailing along the coast of Narnia. She tried not to think about that, though. For the last few years, she'd done a fair job of keeping all those memories bottled up inside of her, though none of the others could understand why.

Narnia had ruined everything. Since she'd first come back through the wardrobe, Susan had felt out of place. The secret of her life in Narnia weighed her down and set her apart. She wanted to tell people what she had learned, what she had seen. Sometimes, she'd felt as though she would burst with the wonder of it all. But she had to pretend to be normal. To be just like every other girl she knew. She had to feign interest in mundane things like telephones and other such inventions. 'It's like magic!' People said. They were wrong. Susan had known magic. She had lived in it, and because of it, and for it. She had felt it transform her into something she could never be again, but would always be anyway.

Eventually, it was easier to live in denial than to survive in that terrible state of longing, even if it did drive a wedge between her and her siblings.

Especially Peter. She would never forget that last fight. The very last time they had ever spoken. She could still hear his voice in her head, far clearer than Aslan's pathetic echo was.

'What do you mean "games"?' His voice was still calm, then. He looked at her as though he expected her to deliver some sort of punch line.

She forced a lighthearted laugh. 'Yes games, silly. We both know it's all quite impossible.'

Lucy had run away, then, crying as she had when Edmund had lied about his first trip to Narnia. Crying as though she'd been betrayed. With a nasty glare at Susan, Edmund went after her; an ironic switch of their roles.

Peter's smile faded. 'Why'd you go and do that?'

Susan rolled her eyes. 'Come on, Peter. She has to grow up sometime: we can't keep humouring her for the rest of her life.'

He stepped towards her. 'How can you say you don't believe? After everything we've seen?'

'It's impossible,' she repeated, and laughed again, that oddly high-pitched laugh she had when she was trying too hard to act natural. 'Honestly: a magical land inside a wardrobe?'

Peter looked at her then as though he understood. 'We all miss it, Susan,' he said, 'but it's still here, as long as we believe. "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia."'

'Quite right: unfortunately, I have slightly higher aspirations than being queen of a mythical land. If you want to waste your life pretending, that's your decision.'

She could see the anger in his eyes now. It was the look that would remain with her. That, and Lucy's pained, tearful eyes.

He grabbed her wrist. 'You don't mean that.' He whispered. 'Look me in the eye and tell me you don't mean that!' He was shouting now. She flinched away from him, but after a moment she composed herself and looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

'There's no point in being angry with me. Just because I've grown up and you haven't.'

She'd never seen him so furious, but he had grown up well — better than Susan, perhaps — and he did not lash out. He released her arm, almost throwing it away from him, and walked away from her without another word.

Leaning against the window of her cabin, Susan started to cry.

Above her, a knot in the wood of the wall shifted imperceptibly. If one looked very closely, it was almost shaped like a lion's head, surrounded by a mane of wooden veins.