"I did what I thought best, for you and for Narnia," Aslan said, and Susan held her head high with the poise she had learned as Queen, even as tears prickled at her eyes, "but I know that I caused you and your family hurt, and for that, Susan, my daughter, I am sorry."

Susan's eyes snapped open and she stared at the ceiling - whitewash in need of dusting, a familiar crack; not the arching, beautifully-carved stone her mind still said should be above her - as her throat tightened.

It wouldn't have eased the pain anyway, she thought, closing her eyes once more, but . . . perhaps it would have helped - the apology she knew would never come.