Queen Susan wandered listlessly through the halls of her great new home—Cair Paravel was a marvelous place and she was falling more in love with it—with the whole country of Narnia—each and every day.

But this afternoon the eldest queen was unsettled. A delegation from Calormen was coming for the first time today to meet the new Narnian tetrarch and begin the process of establishing new agreements. The Four suspected they would try to take advantage of the Pevensies newness when it came to negotiations. No other delegation would treat them like the Calormenes would, they'd been told, so the next week looked to be the hardest yet known in a reign that was barely five weeks old.

She knew that the next week would be a difficult—they'd been well informed as to how Tarkaans, and Tarkheenas, for that matter, behaved-but she desperately wanted things to go well, to get off on the right foot, you might say. It wasn't like her to be so unsettled—of the four siblings, Susan was the one who was most unflappable—Edmund might be a close second, but Susan's cool head that had gotten them through many a scrape, so she hated feeling like this.

And she wandered the halls.

She came to a hallway, an offshoot of a second story thoroughfare that was only partially illuminated by torches from the main hall. She hadn't been down this hall before, but the castle was large, so that wasn't a surprise.

Curious, she glided slowly noiselessly down it, looking at each ornate doorknob. She counted them by their decoration—a faun, a unicorn, a nymph, a—wait—that door was a bit ajar!

She moved closer and peered through the crack with a pounding heart and a thrill of excitement—if there was one thing she'd learned about Narnia, it was that any curiosity could turn into an adventure.

She found a bedroom, covered with a layer of grime—not really visible from the door, but Susan could feel it. She made a mental note to have it cleaned—preferably before some Tarkaan wandered in!

She pushed the door open, just enough to slip inside, and stared around in wonderment. Susan had, of course, seen more than her share of dirty rooms in a castle that hadn't seen life for one hundred years before she and her siblings were crowned, but there was something about this room that was different—she could feel a difference.

It was quite large, like most of the royal rooms, and dominated by a large bed, perfectly made, as if the user was still in residence, with a thick, but faded and dusty, dark blue comforter with plush ivory pillows mounded high against the ornate mahogany backboard. Sunbeams streamed in though windows that took up half the wall, but they cast a decidedly hazy look, as giant cobwebs stretched across the glass.

Susan turned a slow circle, taking the whole room in, and her eyes fell on the door to a huge walk-in closet. Curiosity propelled her towards it, but her conscience pulled her back—it didn't seem right to pry, even though whoever's room this was had been dead for at least one hundred years. Still, didn't it need to be cleaned out? She looked around again in indecision and saw a tall bookcase, made of cherry wood, next to the bed.

She wondered if a book might calm her nerves. She loved to read, after all, and maybe there would be some useful tidbit about Narnia. And, at any rate, with the Calormenes coming, peering in the closet must be a chore for another day.

She moved cautiously towards the bookshelves—as if she'd disturb someone if she made noise—and found herself attracted to a very old book. The cover was worn and the pages seemed on the verge of saying farewell to the binder, so she gingerly pulled it off the shelf and stared at it. The cover was the same faded blue as the comforter, and it bore the golden outline of a Lion's head. Susan traced the outline with a gentle finger, leaving a clear design on the book, while turning her finger black with grime. She cautiously opened it to the dedication page.

To my beloved daughter, Swanwhite, that she might record her life's story and be reminded of the lessons that she learns and be reminded of our love and His love in each of those lessons.

Oh, a diary!

Startled, Susan pulled away from the pages and nearly lost her grip on the fragile book. She set it on the bed and stared. How could she read these private words? Her conscience smote her at the thought of looking in the closet, so how could she read these words?

And yet, the more she stared at the open pages, the more she felt like He wanted her to read it—as if there was some great lesson bound up in these pages that He wanted her to know. She'd heard of Queen Swanwhite, of course—a legend for her beauty—and she was fascinated…

Well, alright, she thought, if that's what you want…

She carefully picked the diary up and settled on the floor, her skirts spreading out like ripples in a pond after a game of rock skipping. Swanwhite must have been only a princess when she wrote these words, she thought, and she was amazed that though the book was falling apart, the words looked as fresh and clear as if the ink had only just dried.

Susan read.

Oh, my very own diary! How lovely it is to have one! My daddy knew just what I wanted for my birthday—I'm fourteen today, did you know, diary? Oh, I suppose not, you're just a book with pages, after all—it's me who must fill you up with love and life as I write in you. Oh! That reminds me—as if I needed reminding—Aslan came to my birthday party! Can you imagine that? What a thrill it was to see Him—to be close to Him! I love Him so much and I know He loves me. Can you imagine that He loves me more than my mum and dad? I don't know if I could, but that's what He says, so it must be true.

Oh, do you know what He told me? He said that one day I'd be very beautiful—the most beautiful queen Narnia would ever know—and that if I looked in a pool my reflection would stay there for a year and a day. At first, I thought it would be great fun and as soon as He left, I went to try it. It didn't work today, and I'm very glad—I'm quite ashamed of myself for doing that and I don't feel at all beautiful. I wonder how my outsides will become so beautiful if my insides feel so ugly?

But, do you know, diary? I think I've come up with an answer! I think that He meant that when my insides are beautiful enough, they will leak out of me and coat my outsides. Do you know what that means, diary? That means I'm going to have to be the most beautiful person on the inside, so I can become like that on the outside!

It feels like a daunting task, I admit, especially after today, but I'm just going to have to practice being as beautiful as I can, because if I practice being the person I want to become, then I will be the person I want to become.

"Susan!" Lucy's voice echoed urgently, seemingly from far away, to pull the eldest queen back into the present, "Susan, where are you?"

Susan carefully pressed the diary back into its place on the shelf, all the while assuring her younger sister that she had heard and was coming. She heard running feet, and then, Lucy's golden head popped through the closed door, her eyes holding, it seemed, all her nervous excitement.

"The Calormen ship is really close—Peter told me, no wait, he ordered me to find you!"

The younger queen looked up and down, "Say, whose room is this?"

"I'll explain later—let's get to the wharf, before Peter blows his stack!"

It was mid-morning, the next day, when Peter yanked open the door to the little room that connected their four bedrooms together and the three younger siblings filed in. He would have slammed it if Susan hadn't given him stern look, but after it was shut he let loose with his rant.

"Do they honestly think we'll accept that hogwash? Those insufferable blowhards—I can't—"

"Oh, stop it," Susan censored him tiredly, "We only agreed to an hour of deliberation and it won't do to spend half of it gripping about how unfair their terms are."

Peter ran his hand down the side of his face and neck, sucked in a sharp breath of air, and let it out slowly,

"Alright, Ed, what've you got?"

At that, everyone to settle in to work—taking up the two couches that faced each other across a coffee table—Peter and Lucy facing Susan and Edmund.

Edmund, officially and self-appointed scribe for the tetrarch during these negotiations, spread out his papers, while Susan peered over his shoulder.

"Well, let's see—first, they had the audacity to tell us that one hundred years ago, there was a trade agreement that all but stated they could steal from us with impunity and we had to pay the usual tariffs and taxes."

"I hardly think they said it like that," Lucy broke in.

"You're right, they were much more poetic," Edmund paused long enough to answer her before continuing.

"Next, they brought out a sheet of parchment—the supposed signed agreement—and wanted us to reenact it. They said there'd be trouble with their Tisroc if we didn't—they threatened us! Can you believe that? Of course, the funny part is that their little agreement was freshly inked—not one hundred plus years old. What a forgery—I could have told you from a mile away. And here we are—supposedly reading over the deal one more time and blissfully signing away Narnian rights so that the Tarkaans can get out of here sooner rather than later."

"I'd settle for them just leaving sooner," growled Peter, "It's not even lunchtime and I've had my fill of them."

He reached in and pulled some notes closer to read for a moment before roughly pushing them back.

"Where do you suppose they make this stuff up? When we go to Tashbaan—and I'm sure we will—don't you suppose we should ask?"

Lucy giggled.

"So, what's our counter offer?" Susan asked, trying to get back to business.

"The same thing we've already agreed on," Edmund said, "The real old treaty, with the minor temporary adjustments to account for the fact that Narnia is not quite economically back on her feet."

He pulled out a very old looking parchment and displayed it for all to see.

"This, my fine siblings, is that agreement—I'm sure they left their copy in Tashbaan, but, at least, we can display ours if it comes to that."

"Not much for delicacy, are you, Ed?" Lucy gave him a look, "Well, let's hope the Tisroc doesn't get as upset as his Tarkaans say he will—Narnia isn't ready for another pitched battle, so soon after defeating the Witch—and, of course, there's Archenland to think of—the Tisroc's armies will have to come through there on their way here."

"We need a gentle hand and a cool head, that's for sure," Peter remarked.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and all four heads turned to the grandfather clock against the wall.

"Not time already, is it?" Peter groaned.

But it wasn't.

"Come in," Peter called, curious.

A faun's head poked though the door, "Begging your pardon, your majesties, but we've run into a bit of a problem and I'm afraid it's threefold."

Peter gave a tight smile, "A problem with the Tarkaans?"

"No, sire."

"Then it can't be too bad!"

"Yes, sire, no, sire—well, see, there's a group of Centaurs and Fauns arguing over who gets to use a piece of land in the west, then there's the dwarves from the northern border—they complain of the Ettin Giants damming up the River Shribble where it flows into their mines, and last, but," here he paused to let out an exasperated sigh, "apparently not least, there's a young Talking foal that fell in some muck—it's out now, but its mother is apparently seeking assistance and couldn't be put off—I told her you were in meetings, but she insisted!"

"Oh, poor foal," Lucy murmured, "But I wonder what we're needed for…"

"Well, I'm appointing you to find out, Lu," Peter nodded, "Don't use your cordial please—whatever it is, it doesn't sound serious."

"And the Tarkaans?" the young queen asked.

"It looks like you get lucky—at least for a bit."

"Now, for the other things," Peter continued, "Please tell me there's a delegation of the offended parties here to talk with us—I really don't know how two of us could leave with negotiations in progress…"

Yes, sire—even the dwarfs sent someone—on the back of a Hawk, from what I understand."

Peter looked relieved, "Good—I'll deal with the Centaurs and Fauns, Ed—you get the dwarves, and Su," he threw her a lopsided apologetic smile, "sweet girl that you are—will you hold down the fort with the Tarkaans till we get back?"

Susan's stomach flip-flopped, and she pressed her hand against it to settle the butterflies, "Oh, Peter, dear brother that you are, I do believe you might have to pay for this, but if you think I can—I will."

"Capitol!" He smiled and squeezed her shoulder, "You'll be fine, Su—just fine."

"But, I say," Lucy spoke up, "Do you suppose it's safe—I wouldn't feel safe alone around those fat, funny looking scoundrels."

"Well, I won't be alone—Onca will be there."

"Take a centaur too, Su," Edmund spoke up, "I got a kick out of watching those Tarkaans quake in their pointy little shoes yesterday, when the palace guard came to greet them."

Peter nodded, "A centaur to stand by the door and a faun to stand beside you—tell Onca that he'll have backup if things go awry."

Alright, I will." She glanced at the clock, "And, I'd better get going!"

Susan sat in a chair, waiting in the large conference room. Onca, a huge Jaguar, and Susan's personal guard, lay tensely on the carpet next to her. His eyes were clued intently on the door and his only movement was a subtle twitch of the tail, every now and again. Aiolos, hand on the pommel of a hidden knife, stood on the other side. None of them spoke.

The Tarkaans were now a half-hour late in arriving, and though Susan generally detested unexplainable tardiness, she was glad for the time to organize her thoughts.

How would she handle this meeting?

As she pondered, Swanwhite's journal entry came back to her—I must be the person that I want to become.

Well, who do I want to become? Susan asked herself.

Her people called her the Gentle Queen, so she thought that was what Aslan meant for her to become.

But, what is being Gentle? Certainly, He didn't mean for her to be a pushover, to be stepped over and stepped on.

Then Susan thought of Edmund's new colt—King Lune had given all four of them yearlings to name and train as their own—No one in their right mind would call Ajax a pushover, yet they also called him gentle.

Maybe, she thought, being gentle is surrendering to the will of the One who leads me, and letting Him, direct me in the way I should go. Yes, that must be it—to let Him direct me, whether he wants me to speak up or stay quiet. Whether He wants me to comfort someone or fight for the rights that Narnia deserves. It must all be at His pleasure.

She had a sense that He wanted her to stand firm today—to stand up for the tetrarch, for Narnia, and, most importantly, for Him.

Suddenly, Onca's ear twitched and he rose noiselessly on his padded paws. Susan had heard nothing, but she knew that Cats hear far better than Humans. She stood up moments before Neemias opened the door.

"The Tarkaans await, your majesty."

Not as long as I have, she thought.

"Show them in," she nodded.

Four fat men, draped in robes of rich vibrant colors with tassels that drug on the carpet, and wearing caps that, yesterday, Edmund described as looking very much like miniature dunce caps, filed into the room. Upon seeing only Susan, the most senior one, Zuhr Tarkaan, stopped cold, and said in a syrupy voice.

"We didn't realize, O beautiful barbarian Queen that you four were not ready—of course, being the age that you are—as the poets say—"

Susan cut him off sternly, "My brothers and sister were called away on unexpected business, and will return shortly—you must appreciate that Narnia has undergone great change in a very short time and things do occasionally arise. However, understand this—we four together form a tetrarch—all four of us carry equal weight, and we rule together by the grace and at the pleasure of the Lion, who is above us all. I am prepared to and capable of handling these talks until they have returned."

The youngest, Nuh Tarkaan, gave a soft laugh and Susan felt her face burn with indignation, "Your tardiness—thirty minutes past the appointed time, you kept me waiting—speaks ill of you, but can be forgiven, but I cannot disregard your disrespect towards the Lion who established this world and this house—how will it be for you when my brother, the High King, writes to your Tisroc to tell him of your disrespect towards this house?"

The Tarkaans shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the Lion, and Zuhr spoke up, "O brilliant and beautiful barbarian Queen of the North, you must forgive Nuh Tarkaan's detestable behavior—he is young and untested—but I assure you that he will be taken care of once we're back in Tashbaan."

Susan wondered what he meant by that.

"Will you be seated so we can begin?"

They sat.

Susan held up the deal that the Four had agreed to and the real old agreement inked before the Winter.

"Our offer remains the same as before, and my brother, King Edmund, has found a most peculiar document—it seems that you were mistaken in your earlier assessment of the previous agreement, but I have it with me, and I'm sure that you will not make such mistakes in the future."

Susan looked at each one in turn as she spoke, just to let them know that she wouldn't be bullied into giving up Narnian rights, and her confidence grew as she watched their expressions.

"Well, O beautiful Queen," Zuhr squirmed in his seat, "you must realize that our great benevolent wise Tisroc (may he live forever) must sign off on the deal—I'm afraid that we'll need to send a message—we have ravens, of course—will that do? Perhaps we can sign it this afternoon, if he is favorable towards it."

"You do that then—we'll await word."

*~0~*

Lucy hurried down the hall towards the conference room. The little foal had been shaken up, but really not hurt, and Lucy was able to soothe both him and the mare. She would've been happier to do it if they hadn't had to leave to Susan to fend off shameless Tarkaans in an important meeting, and now she scurried to help Susan where she could.

As she half-walked half-ran down the hall, the conference door swung open and four fat Tarkaans toddled toward her on their tiny pointed shoes. They didn't look real pleased and they were grumbling something Lucy didn't quite catch. They nearly ran into her and she gave them a perplexed icy look,

"What's this?" she asked.

Startled, the Tarkaans slammed on the brakes, and Zuhr spoke, "O wise young Queen, we were just heading to our rooms to write and deliver a message to our Tisroc (may he live forever) to ask him to inform us as to how to proceed with your beautiful sister's most outrageous demands."

Lucy swept aside, "Well then, off you go."

The Tarkaans lost no time in making themselves scarce, and the moment Lucy was alone, she picked up her skirts, ran the rest of the way to the conference room, and burst through the door.

Susan, Onca, Aiolos and Neemias were huddled round the table, trying to muffle their laughter.

"What happen?" Lucy inquired.

"Oh, those silly men," Susan laughed, "I honestly wasn't trying to frighten them, but once I said that I-we-wouldn't tolerate disrespect towards Aslan or the lands He created or our house that He established, they seemed to get really nervous—I don't think they really respect us or Him yet, but at least they won't move against us, since He protects us."

Lucy giggled, with a hand over her mouth, "How'd you do it?"

"I just made it clear that we serve under Him and that we're only here to do His will—which, of course, doesn't include selling our country's rights to those that have ill intentions."