Team spirit

"But of course you'd want to be treated specially by the one you love," Rita said. "To have him be a cold man that's only warm when it comes to you, that just means you're super super special!"

"Once they're already together, why does he feel compelled to keep proving he's in love with her by making enemies left and right?" Artus pointed out. "Besides, is a lack of self-control really attractive at all? He's like a giant child going around telling everyone not to touch his toy, except the toy is his wife."

"He's just being protective! He wants his wife to only be treated well for the rest of her life," Rita said. "Anyway I'm not changing my mind. This book is going to be my pick of the week. In return, I'll kindly display your boring choice about the history of pickles."

"It's a history about the exploration of the world in the context of pickles and the essential role that pickles play in them—"

"Artus, it's a history about pickles. It can't be interesting."

"I've read all the romance novels you've foisted on me. You can deign to read my history book."

"Your book is way longer than—you have? Which was your favorite?"

"...The Stars Above."

"Ooh, what did you like about it? The forbidden love? The steamy—"

"Excellently written. Tightly plotted. A male and female lead that are both worthy of being admired."

"I bet it's actually the steamy—"

"It's not! And I'm surprised you're still so shameless in your speech in public. We've been meeting for well over a month now."

"It's just us and Philippa," Rita said. She tweaked the new book display some more as Artus organized the shelves behind the counter. After hearing Rita's appalling opinions about how books should be handled, he felt obligated to give some attention to the volumes in the store. "Besides, Prince Frederic doesn't seem to mind."

"Other people will mind, once you become a princess."

"I'm not really worried about them. But I don't feel like I'm even close to capturing Prince Frederic, which is more worrisome!"

"You should be more worried about other people. And I don't understand why you keep using the word capture when you talk about the prince—"

"What sort of romance stories does the prince like?"

"He doesn't—" Artus paused. "He likes romances about elegant princesses."

"Humm somehow I feel like you just made that up to convince me to be more princess-like."

"Is that where you're going to draw the line? You were ready to knock him down, steal his animals, dress up as a man and join his sports circles, lock him in a closet with you, on and on, but you absolutely can't stop using the word steamy?"

"But that's something that never ends," Rita complained. "Everything else is just a way to make two people meet in an interesting way. But I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not!"

"Besides a man."

"Okay, I wasn't that serious about that one. I'm not good at sports."

"Is that the problem..." Artus drawled, but sports gave him an idea. "If you play team sports, it doesn't matter if you're not good. You can still have a good time. How about you play tennis with him at the next meeting? Now that your ankle is healed, it might be good for you to get some exercise anyway."

"Tennis?" Rita blinked. "The sport where you hit a ball back and forth with a racket?"

"Yes, what else?"

"Uh, no, nothing, nevermind. I guess I could do it. It doesn't sound really romantic though."

"What would be a more romantic sport?"

"Well." Rita thought really hard about this. "It's not about the sport, is it? The sport is just an excuse to get the player to need someone's help, like encouragement or cold water or a nice massage for their aching joints. Or, the sport gets them really worked up, and then when they finally win it's really exciting, and then you have sparks flying on the field, sparks flying in the eyes!"

"It sounds like tennis could be excellently romantic, then."

Rita sighed. "I mean, maybe."

#

That weekend, Artus arranged for Frederic and Rita to play against some cousins, but when he led Rita and Philippa to the tennis courts, he found Frederic waiting there alone, attempting to juggle three tennis rackets.

Artus eyed the rackets with trepidation. "Are Gaspard and Odette late?"

The wooden rackets clattered to the ground once more. Frederic beamed a smile at him. "Nope! I told them they didn't need to come. After all, we are four, aren't we?"

Artus held up a hand. "Wait. No. You don't mean for me to play. I'm not playing."

"It's been so long since we've played together though! Wouldn't it be fun?"

"I don't play."

Rita hid a smirk behind her hand. "Ooh, what's wrong, Artus? Don't like being forced to do things you're not good at?"

"I'm fine at tennis," Artus said, even as he tried to reject the racket Frederic pushed into his hands. "I just—this was not the plan!"

"Don't worry! I had some servants fetch you clothes if you want to change into something you can move in better." Frederic did a few lunges to show off the range of his sports breeches, and a few swings that presumably showed off the range of his shirtless torso which was wholly unnecessary.

"This is fine," Artus said stiffly. "In fact, I'll just declare my loss now."

"Come on, Tutu, be a sport!"

"Oh my goodness, your nickname is Tutu?"

Frederic! Artus wanted to scream. "Only the prince calls me that."

"Can I call you that too?"

"I also want to," said Philippa, whom Artus had previously assumed not to have a sense of humor.

"No, no one else is calling me that. Fine, I'll change. I'll play. I may as well dance for everyone while I'm at it."

"Being a proper noble is hard, isn't it, Tutu?"

"I'm glad you're amused, Lady Rita."

After Artus switched to appropriate tennis attire, he picked a racket and took his place on the court. As Frederic and Rita were on a team, Artus and Philippa gathered on the other side. Unlike Frederic, Artus chose a loose shirt with billowing sleeves. Philippa also changed, but since her clothing allowed full movement anyway, she simply shed her armor and outer layer. They sized each other up.

"You are skinny, Cressofort," said Philippa.

"I'm an aide, not a bodyguard," Artus said sourly.

The game began.