Petunia

The envelope was unmarked apart from Petunia's name and the venue address. It had been with the mail packet when she checked in to the stables complex. The postmark was Rindburg, but she wasn't expecting anything from the team or her family. It didn't look like an official business overture either.

The stables building was temporary, set up every year in Tianfu square in the centre of the city, but you had to look really close to see the signs of it. Plasticy prefab walls were covered by miles of clever, stylish decals. The lattice of girders that held the whole thing up was nowhere to be seen. All that really gave it away was the slight give in the floor at the open end of the stable bays, but that was still enough that when Petunia stepped into Soot's stable she felt like she could imagine the whole floor shift.

She tossed the rest of the mail packet onto the table – a lot of it was official ICDA memoranda of one kind or another, and various of Tenebrae's personnel would need to look at various bits of it – and, making sure her back was to the room, carefully opened the mystery envelope. Inside was a single thin sheet of paper, printed on both sides. One side looked like an official form of some sort. The other:

Dear Ms. Platt,

I have come into possession of proof that neither Ms. Tenryuu, yourself, nor any other member of your team is the registered owner of the dragon, Soot. A copy of said proof – the original veterinary registration form, signed by Dr Elan Cokiry in Bromberg several years ago – is printed on the reverse of this letter. I regret that I cannot suggest any straightforward way for you to confirm its veracity, but I assure you it is quite genuine.

I know this because I am Soot's rightful owner. For the time being, my request is simple: withdraw Soot from the Imperial League and disband your team. If you do this, I will consider it a good faith indication of your intent to return him to my custody and contact you again with further instructions. If you fail to do so before the end of the season, then on the morning of the final race, I shall hand over the original registration form to the ICDA and distribute copies to the major newspapers of Occidens.

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I trust you will make the sensible choice.

Yours in utmost respect,

The Raven

Petunia's head swam. Her breath felt like a landslide. She forced her hands to unclench before the tension could tear the letter apart. She had no idea how to tell whether the photocopied certificate was genuine or not, but the weight of cold stone in her chest told her with certainty that it was. Phoebe had admitted she stole Soot. Petunia had, unconsciously, allowed herself to forget.

She folded the letter carefully and tucked it back in its envelope, then stalled. Her dress had no pockets, there was only her shoulder bag, and if she left the envelope in that someone might find it if she left her bag unattended, as she sometimes did during race weekends. She had to figure out what to do about the- the… blackmail threat, was the term. She had to figure out what to do about it before she could work out what to tell the team.

Who could she ask for advice? She couldn't go to Cece, not for this. It had been hard enough keeping her former boss in the dark about the real source of Tenebrae's new HQ building that now bore P.R.A.N.C.'s name. There was no telling how Phoebe would react if confronted, their last confrontation hadn't resolved anything at all. Adelie, even with her odd streak of newfound confidence, would freak it pretty hard.

Was there anyone else on the team she could try? A few of them had been in the Imperial League in other roles for a long time, and might be inured to some of its skulduggery, but surely none of them had dealt with anything like this. And any one of them might go straight to ICDA, or spill the beans to the rest of the team.

That left Phoebe's new PR manager, the tall, imposing lady Petunia had first met when she brought Thessaly Pantelleria to be a guest of the team in Calabria. Brynna Hynafol seemed old beyond her years and Petunia was sure that she was something more than an ordinary human. She was too confident, too composed, there was a slight but distinct aura of ineffable power about her.

And, as a PR professional, she had to be good at keeping secrets. Petunia frowned at the envelope in her hand again. The letter wouldn't be rendered illegible if she folded it over. She did so, and tucked it inside the cuff of her sleeve. It might still be spotted by someone if she had to shake hands, but at least she'd know where it was at all times. Brynna was flying in from Rindburg later, it would be easy enough to find time to speak to her about it.