Petunia

Petunia sat at her new workstation in the stable assigned to Tenebrae in the Ma'anshi Reservoir stadium. It was an investment in the future of the team, an upgrade from the rickety old table she'd scavenged at the start of the year. This desk was only four feet wide, but it had side panels cut with stylish curved lines, painted in the sparkling indigo of the team's colours. Data ports, power sockets and a monitor were integrated into the worktop, so hooking up her laptop was easy and she had a lot more screen real estate to work with.

Team chairs were still on order, so she was sitting on the same plastic seat she'd used all season, and it wasn't quite high enough for the workstation, but it would do. It was nice to have a physical manifestation of the long-term commitment all to herself after watching the team's stables fill up with equipment for the vet teams. The other new addition – portable walls that formed an actual soundproofed meeting cubicle along the back wall, again styled in Tenebrae's colour – was also for Petunia's pride as much as anything else, but other personnel were already starting to make use of it.

As Petunia turned to take it in again, the stable door opened and Brynna walked in. Phoebe's PR manager looked even more exhausted than she had almost a week ago when she'd flown out of Shu Han to make some clandestine inquiry about the blackmail threat hanging over the team. She had a small suitcase with her, which suggested she'd come direct from the airport.

She caught Petunia's eye and walked over, parking the suitcase at the side of the workstation. Petunia stood to greet her, catching herself just short of giving her a hug. The older woman looked like she needed it, but also like she might not welcome it in view of the rest of the team. She was already looking past Petunia to the assorted bustling around Soot and along the wall where the Computational Modelling Group were testing their setups under Elice's watchful eye.

Finally, Brynna said, "I'm going to speak to Phoebe. You should… can you come with me, sweetie? This isn't going to go well."

Petunia looked up into Brynna's red eyes, feeling the stiffness of the pocket where she was keeping the blackmail threat. This was her only dress with pockets, one of her favourites, and she hated that she had it on for this reason, and that she'd picked today of all days to wear it. She nodded, trying to put some brightness into her voice. "Better to get it over with, right?"

Brynna tilted her head in what might have been the start of a wry shrug of agreement, but didn't finish the gesture. Instead, she started to walk, and Petunia fell into step. Phoebe was standing with Adelie near Soot, watching Stefan and Ches tweaking something on the dragon's harness. Soot, for his part, looked as cat-like smug at the attention as always, leaned slightly on one side but with his chin on the heated floor.

Phoebe looked round at Brynna's approach. "Hey, Nina, how was the… flight…" She, too, could read the trouble in Brynna's expression.

"Phoebe, sweetie, I'm going to ask you a question," Brynna began, in the kind of tone Petunia's mother used to use with her brothers when she knew they would try to pretend innocence. "And I want you to be straight with me, okay, sweetie? I have to know."

Immediately, Phoebe looked at Petunia. So did Adelie. Adelie's face was grim, as if she'd somehow figured out what was about to happen. All Petunia could do was guess, but she knew Adelie's expression was justified. Meanwhile Phoebe looked like she was looking for an escape route and not finding one. Just outside of the scope of the conversation, Stefan had half-turned, half-started to rise to his feet.

Turning back to Brynna, Phoebe nodded, eyes closed.

"Where did you get Soot, sweetie?"

If there was any chance of her maintaining the deception, Phoebe blew it immediately. "I, uh, we, y'know, I tamed her from wild, uh, up i-in the mountains in Norda." Her eyes darted around, anywhere but Brynna's face. Stefan was standing now, clearly listening, one hand tapping on Ches' shoulder to draw him to the conversation as well.

Adelie's expression had hardened into a scowl, fixed on Phoebe. Petunia wondered how her own face looked. She felt like a statue, held in place by her own cold stone weight. Phoebe didn't know about the blackmail threat yet – with Brynna, she'd planned to try to shield Phoebe from it, a plan which was clearly out of the window. Brynna didn't know the truth of Soot's origin, just like the rest of the team.

Maybe it was time for the secrets to end. Petunia had lied to the media, to team personnel, even to family, when Cara had come to visit back in Ura. In the paralysed silence that was slowly expanding to draw in more of the team – Tamra had turned from the feeding station to watch, and Elice was drifting over, a look of alarm on her face – Petunia took a step forward, pulling the blackmail letter out of her pocket.

It was a bit worn from everything she'd done to keep it on her person, the corners scuffy, the print not quite as crisp as it had been fresh out of the envelope. Her hand trembled as she held it out to Phoebe. The dragon rider looked from the paper, to Petunia's face, and back again.

She took the letter and unfolded it, wiping at the corner of one eye with a finger.

Voice clear as glass and carrying through the frozen atmosphere, Brynna began, "I know you took money from Angelo Castelloro to start this team" – how had she known that, Petunia thought, gaping at her – "but that letter is signed by one of the top Dons of Nosa Costra."

There were gasps. Adelie put her hand to her mouth. Petunia glanced to one side and saw Vermilia and Dr Arden, the doctor pressing her face into the physio's shoulder. Stefan's face was unreadable; Ches' had a cynical sneer, tempered by the wideness of his eyes. Petunia had guessed that that was the origin of the letter, but to hear Brynna say it so bluntly was still horrible.

Phoebe folded the blackmail note and handed it back to Petunia, hand almost steady. Then she looked around the crowd that had assembled, attention jumping jerkily from face to face. Her shoulders were so low, they were almost round. Her stance made Adelie look tall at her side.

"Where did you get Soot, Phoebe?" Brynna's voice was perfectly neutral, as tired and defeated as it was painful.

Petunia remembered how Phoebe had looked when she'd admitted the truth the first time, back when Tenebrae was just the three of them and Soot. How clearly it had been written on her face as she decided not to try to lie again. This time there was no such clarity. She was looking past Stefan and Ches at Soot, who was watching her as closely as everyone else.

Eventually, quietly, Phoebe said, "I sto- I rescued him. And his clutch. From a Nosa Costra ranch."

"You stole him," Brynna said flatly, "from the Calabrian mafia."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Phoebe nodded.

Petunia looked around the team. Tamra's face was whiter than Dr Arden's dress. The doctor was clinging tightly to Scarle, whose fingers were clenched in the fabric at her shoulder. Weirdly, Stefan, Ches and Elice were all looking to Petunia. She avoided their gazes.

Adelie had wrapped her arms around herself. She said, "What does the letter say?"

"It's blackmail." Petunia was surprised at how clear her voice sounded. "They want us to disband the team, and probably give them back Soot, or they'll show ICDA proof that Phoebe doesn't own Soot. On the day of the last race."

In the silence, Soot let out an audible hiss of air. It wasn't hostility, and his posture when Petunia looked over wasn't tense. How much did he really understand? Would he choose to be here, if given the choice? What would he do if the mafia did come to reclaim him?

It was, finally, Dr Arden who posed the question, voice trembling. "What do we do?"

Phoebe lifted her head. "I'll explain what happened. That ranch has to be illegal, there'll be some way to prove it, it's the mafia after all, they might not even risk going public with it."

As Phoebe spoke, Petunia felt her jaw sliding open. She shut it sharply, and snapped, "You can't be serious."

"It's the mafia, Petunia, the whole organisation is illegal, there's no way- there's no way they can risk actually going public, it'll be-"

"They wouldn't have made the threat if they couldn't go through with it. I can't believe you're seriously thinking of continuing to race. They're already killing people over this!"

"They're WHAT?" That was Vermilia, her voice rasping as it leapt in pitch.

"The 'crime wave' in Rindburg is a gang war," Brynna said, looking from Vermilia to Phoebe, her face darkening. "Between Soot's rightful owners and Phoebe's friends the Castelloros."

"They're not his rightful owners!" Phoebe actually took a step towards her manager. "No-one owns a dragon!"

Something seized Petunia's gut and squeezed, flooding her insides with heat. "That's not the point! You dragged us all into a gang war and now you're trying to keep us there!"

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong! Soot belongs here, Petunia, you see it as well as everyone. We belong here, we have to-"

Months of lies surged up Petunia's throat like bile. "Fuck you, Phoebe Hyperio! You're going to get us all murdered! We cannot keep racing. Face the truth! It's over!"

Now even Soot was staring at Petunia. It was the first time in a year she'd used Phoebe's family name, and that burned on her tongue maybe even worse than the expletive. She couldn't read any of the moods around her. Everyone looked like hell. Everything was hell. Even if they did disband the team, there was no way the mafia would leave them alone, was there? And if word ever got out, no employer would ever look at her again, would they?

"Let me get one thing straight." Vermilia spoke dryly, but there was no humour in it. Her face was stiff as steel beams. "It's not just one mob that's pissed at us, it's two?"

"Angelo isn't pissed at us," Phoebe said quietly. Then there was a bitter ghost of her usual laughter, "Well, he's pissed about the Nosa Costra finding out, but I don't know how that happened."

"He provided your initial financial backing, is that right?" It was the first thing Stefan had said, and weirdly, he didn't sound that angry. Petunia studied his face, looking for a reflection of the anger in the room, but apart from lips pressed thin together he seemed calm.

Phoebe nodded.

Vermilia hissed, "So you borrowed money from one mob to steal from another? We've been working for the mob all along?"

"In fairness," Stefan said, with a long, careful pause, "I doubt there is very much to decide between the mob and some of the other sponsors on the grid. The Hermeia, the Temisia, even your family, Phoebe, they were all warmongers."

"Don't say that where dad can hear," Phoebe said, mustering something like humour. "We might still need him to shield us."

"Do you really think he can help us? Will he?" Not for the first time over the last few weeks, Petunia heard an unfamiliar edge in Adelie's voice. The vet, too, had grown in confidence and assertiveness from her time with the team.

Phoebe shrugged. Her voice wasn't as steady as she probably thought it was as she said, "It's our best hope. If I show him that I can build a team, that I can win, that I really can compete for the championship without him, that has to satisfy him, right?"

"You really want to try to call their bluff?" Petunia whispered, "The Raven – Nosa Costra, I mean?"

"I'm not giving up now, Petunia." Phoebe waved a hand, taking in Soot, the stable, the view out past the shutter to the grandstand opposite. "Look at how close we are. We have to see this through."

"You can't think that the mafia will give up if you frustrate their blackmail?" Brynna hadn't softened. "Sweetie, they'll start killing us. They might not touch you because of your father, but what about the rest of us?"

"I can't give up now. I can't-" It sounded like Phoebe's throat closed up. She finished in a whisper, "Please don't leave me now."

A look went between Stefan, Ches and Elice, and Petunia only caught the end of it out of the corner of her eye. Her chest still felt like ice. Stefan took a step closer to Phoebe. "I will stay. I am not even sure this is the worst deal I have made in the Imperial League."

Ches snorted. "The League has protected its own in some pretty shady circumstances over the years. Soot's a good dragon. A great dragon. I'm in."

"Me too," Elice said. She didn't sound quite as sure, but she moved to stand alongside Stefan. "I'll talk to my team. But I want more security back at HQ."

Phoebe very carefully avoided Petunia's eyes, didn't look at Adelie either. "Brynna, you owe Angelo money too, right?"

Brynna gaped at her for a moment. "How did you-?"

"Thessaly told me." For once, Phoebe actually looked apologetic.

"She knew about all this?" The manager rolled her eyes. "Of course she did. Alright, sweetie, yes, I do."

"Maybe we can cut a package deal with him," Phoebe said with a brief chuckle before her face fell. She turned to Adelie, still not looking at Petunia. Petunia clenched her fists. Adelie still looked pale. What Phoebe actually said was, "Will you stick with me for this race at least, Adelie? I can try to get another vet after that, if you want to… After this, we might be, I mean-"

Adelie nodded, looking at Soot. "I'll stay."

"We should be getting a long way away from here," Vermilia butted in. "Amity, we shouldn't-"

"We stay." The doctor's voice was firm. "It's not like we can leave until our flights anyway, right? Anyway, I want to see what happens."

Attention worked its way around to Petunia. She looked from face to face, pensive and troubled and outright afraid. She'd known all along and lied to their faces, what right did she have to be angrier than any of them? At the same time, it was her name at the top of the Raven's letter.

The others, even maybe Adelie, might be able to get far enough away from Tenebrae and Soot to be lost to the infamously long memory of Nosa Costra. If they could cut ties with the team, maybe they'd be no use or interest to the mafia. But Petunia was as tightly bound to Phoebe as her family had been to the Hyperios since before she was born.

Soot was stretching his neck in Phoebe's direction. Petunia still had no idea how to read the dragon's moods, not really, but it was hard to think that he didn't need some sort of reassurance right now. She looked at the rider, who stood facing her, black race suit zipped up and ready for the race. The suit was covered in the badges of sponsors she'd courted and signed on Phoebe's behalf, and she had to admit Stefan had a point – the Castelloro family wouldn't have been entirely out of place among them.

And there, in pride of place on the left breast, was the Property Rentals, Acquisitions and Notarised Contracts patch. Not the one Phoebe had sewn on herself by hand the night before flying to the Imperial Palace for the first race, when Petunia had signed her boss as their first sponsor without checking in advance that it was ok. Those overalls had been replaced with properly-branded ones, Petunia could remember placing the order, being so proud at ensuring everyone in the team had A Uniform.

She couldn't leave, there was no question that the mob would hunt her down even if it let everyone else go. But if her fate was bound to this team, it was her team. She looked at her hands, the fingernails ruined over the last few months by a mix of not having time to care for them, airline air conditioning, and nerves.

When she looked up again and met Phoebe's eyes, the dragon rider almost flinched. Petunia said, "I don't think I have a choice, do I? They'll come for me too, right? It's our team."

"Right." Phoebe said, as if Petunia had just told her to fuck off again. Then she gasped the first choke of a surprised laugh. "Right. Right, ok."

"I'm just saying, you'd better be right that you can get us out of this, okay? Because otherwise I'm dead!"

Her face still a mixture of laughter and desperation, Phoebe nodded, "Well, the best way to improve our chances is to win this race, right? Come on, we've got a championship to take the lead of."