Page 14 of Risky Match
Even if that’s the case, there’s still something suspicious about this wild card invite.
My name wasn’t on the list when Wimbledon announced the majority of the wild card recipients a couple of days ago.Saying I was crushed would be an understatement. I’d thought my dedication and success in tournaments over the past year would’ve been enough to garner a merit-based invite. But the last thing I wanted was for people to think the privileged princess was pouting, so I plastered a smile on my face, pretending not to be bothered.
There’s a limit to my ability to fake it though, so I’d decided not to attend Wimbledon this year. It would be too painful to watch, knowing that at my age the chances of ever playing in my dream tournament are quickly fading.
Regaining my voice, I say, “As you know, I’ve always wanted to receive an invitation based on my tennis success, not because I’m part of a royal family. I also never envisioned being invited to play as part of a covert mission. Please be honest with me. I need to know. British intelligence orchestrated my invite, didn’t they? I didn’t earn the spot.”
“Dear, we need to tell her even though she’ll be upset,” Mum says to Dad.
He nods. “Bri, please understand that this mission is very important not only to our country but also to several of our allies, including the UK.”
“So, you and British Intelligencedidarrange for my wild card slot.”
“Not exactly. You see, you were originally on the list to receive a wild card to play singles at Wimbledon this year. But we needed you close to Mr. Knight. That required changing your invitation,” Dad says.
“How do you know I was on the list of wild cards for singles?”
“If the tournament hadn’t already chosen you, British Intelligence wouldn’t have been able to get you in. You earned your spot.”
Thank god.
“That’s a relief, but you know how hard I’ve worked to earn a spot for singles. I’ve had my best year of tennis ever. This was probably my only chance. Now, it’s gone because someone wants me to collect information and pass it along. It’s like someone punched me in the stomach,” I say, hugging myself. I’m feeling sick.
“We know it’s not fair, but this isn’t one ofyourtypical missions. We were against your involvement in the beginning. Ultimately, we agreed you’re the best person for the mission. In fact, you’re probably the only one who can do it.”
“You’ve clearly known about this for a while. Why wasn’t I told sooner?”
“Your father and I have spent hours trying to find a way to keep you out of this mission. We wanted to protect you from danger and let you experience your well-earned honor,” Mum says.
“And we weren’t sure they would find a way to force Blake to play doubles. If he refused, we wanted you to receive your original invitation for singles. But he’ll play, so duty calls. You’ve trained for years with the Covert Royals. You’re ready,” Dad says.
He’s right. I’ve been trained in the use of electronics for surveillance, martial arts, survival skills, weapons handling, and covert communication. We update our training in the classroom and with field exercises every year, so I am ready.
Mum nods solemnly.
“I’ve been ready for a long time, but no one would assign me to real missions. Are you saying this one involves more than just passing information?”
“It does. When you return to your apartment, log in to your secure laptop. Your contact is waiting to give you a video briefing. You’ll receive further instructions when you reach the UK. You also need to talk with your coach and team about theinvitation. Be ready to leave at the end of the week. Mr. Knight is already at the home he’s rented in Wimbledon.”
“Okay. I have a lot to prepare. I’ll sign in for my briefing, if there’s nothing else you need to tell me.”
“That’s all. We’ll talk again before you leave,” Dad says.
After quick goodbyes, I start the long walk from my parent’s palace apartment back to mine, which is in another wing. Along the way, I console myself with the knowledge that I earned a singles invitation even if I can’t tell anyone. At least I’ll finally set foot on the sacred grass courts even if it’s not for the reasons I’d hoped.
This whole situation is ironic. For the last decade, my occasional covert assignments have been mundane. Now, I finally get my opportunity to play singles at Wimbledon, but it’s spoiled by the fulfillment of my desire for a more important mission. I should’ve been more careful about what I asked for, I guess.
I’ve put in the work at the annual covert training. I’m ready for whatever threats cross my path—at least as ready as training can make someone. It’s doubtful, though, that this mission will involve real threats. My parents think eating at a restaurant is a significant security risk, so it’s hard to believe this mission will be particularly exciting despite their reassurances that this is more than an info exchange.
There is one threat, or more accurately, a complication that my parents don’t know about. I have a history with Blake. That means I have mixed feelings about seeing him again. No one has ever made my pulse race like he did that night. We shared personal feelings and stories and connected over our shared struggles.
It’s too bad we didn’t stay in touch. If we had, I’d know more about his current situation. But at the time, we parted amicably with no plans to contact each other. It worked out well becauseneither of us was looking for a relationship. We were both concentrating on our tennis.
A warmth passes through me as I remember how special he made me feel that night. But for all I know, he would have done whatever it took to be able to say he slept with a princess. Not that there have been any rumors that he’s said anything to that effect, but I’ve learned that’s a thing for some guys. My title and money make me a target. Unfortunately, I can never be certain who cares about me for me rather than for what I represent.
I can’t help but wonder whether Blake will be glad to see me or if he’ll be annoyed that I’m showing up to play doubles with him. Knowing how much he hates doubles, he’ll probably tank the first match to avoid the need to play again.
If so, my time competing at Wimbledon will be short and won’t earn me respect from my tennis peers. More importantly, losing early would make it hard to spy on him.
