Argot

Chapter one

She did not want to be there. The stale, warm air nearly suffocated her. Funerals made her uncomfortable. Death in general made her uncomfortable. Her fingers fumbled as she loosened the neck of her collar. Ah, much better, she thought satisfactorily. She was dressed in all black as was customary attire for a funeral. However, she was not there to mourn like the others.

"Let's get this blasted thing over with!" Damien Randolph bellowed.

The poor priest jumped, dropping the funeral rite papers to the floor. He bent over hastily, his knobby, arthritic fingers grabbing for them.

"Y-yes. Please be seated."

She did not sit. Could not, as her spot in the rafters wouldn't allow it.

"We have gathered here today to mourn the sudden passing and to celebrate the life of…" the priest straightened his spectacles, peering closer at his notes, "Ava Randolph."

Ava. That had been her name just a few days prior. Incredible how quickly things can change.

An old woman moaned, rocking back and forth, trying to suppress the sobs that racked her old, brittle body. How much sorrow has this woman seen in her lifetime? Ava recognized the disorganized tangle of gray curls and winced. Her maternal grandmother had been the only ray of sunlight in her life when her mother died and Orion left. Though she couldn't afford to travel to town often, Ava learned love from her short visits. And had she not been so ill herself, she would have taken Ava into her own home and out of the clutches of that monster.

People shouldn't attend their own funerals, she thought disgustedly. Not breathing anyway. It felt wrong to see her grandmother so distraught and do nothing about it. If only she could slip a note, send a sign, something so she would know the truth.

"All ties must be severed," Tori had told her with finality. "No one is to know what really happened to Ava Randolph."

The priest droned on about the meaning of life and uncertainty of death as she remembered the day that changed everything.

It was nearing midday and the scorching sun was beating on the back of Ava's neck. The dogwood tree she was sitting under did little to protect her from the sun's blistering rays. It was nearing the end of summer, but the days were as hot as ever. Unfortunately this time of the year was miserable in Melina.

Ava sat on an old, rickety stool, hunched over a wash basin. She was scrubbing one of Damien's tattered shirts, scowling; her knuckles already raw from the effort. It bothered her how careless her father was with his clothing—they could barely afford food, let alone the fabric that was needed to mend his wardrobe!

"I see you still work too hard," an amused baritone voice said behind her. "Just a hunch, but I don't think that shirt is salvageable."

Startled, she whirled around, peering at the adolescent boy behind her. "Orion?"

He grinned at her, flashing her deep dimples. The same deep dimples she had teased him about as children.

"What? How…what are you doing here?" she exclaimed. She dropped her father's shirt unceremoniously into the washing basin, splashing water on her bare feet as she jumped up and flung her arms around her best friend. Orion chuckled softly, patting her gently on the back. Ava didn't remember him being so tall, or his voice so deep.

She quickly pulled away, blushing as she noticed how the years had been kind to him. He was almost…handsome. Ava suddenly became very aware of her dirt smudged face and filthy work dress.

"The commander of the guard gave me a month off. After all the torturous work he made me do, I'd say I deserve it," Orion said smirking. "But enough about me—what trouble have you been up to?"

"Me?" Haven asked, rocking back on her heels. "Oh, you know, the usual. Setting fashion trends, practicing the newest dances, learning four different languages, and." She paused, leaning in closer, her sea green eyes twinkling mischievously, "secretly kissing servants." She then cocked her head thoughtfully. "Why, just like you, Rye bread," she said teasingly, using the nickname she had given him as a child.

Orion chuckled deeply. "Not much has changed I see, you sarcastic fiend," he said, making a move to ruffle her hair. "And it's five languages, thank you very much."

Ava dodged his hand and brushed back a strand of dirty blonde hair that escaped her braid. "Truthfully, not much has changed," she said, gesturing to the clothes she was washing. "I'm still at Damien's beck and call. He left me a list as long as my arm to finish before he gets home 'or else,'" she said, lowering her voice to mimic her father's drunken tones. "You know how he is."

"That man will be the death of you, Ava."

Ava rolled her eyes. "You worry too much, Rye bread," she laughed, attempting to lighten the mood, "perhaps I should just disembowel him when he returns. No one would blame me."

Orion reached out suddenly, seizing her hand, his faced etched in worry. "Ava, I'm being serious. Come to Elixia with me. Escape this hell!" His voice suddenly became lower, more intense. "Gods know I worry about what that boorish man is doing to you."

Ava's stomach fluttered slightly; he thought of her? She knew it couldn't be in a romantic way; his mother had practically been shouting from the rooftops that he was trying to court some rich, snooty girl in the castle. Probably some future duchess or foreign princess.

There had been a time when Ava couldn't remember her life without Orion. He was a year old when she was born, and their mothers were good friends. Naturally they grew up together and became best friends. They had remained close until four years ago, when Orion's parents had sent him off to Elixia, the capital city. He was sent to study the art of war and to earn his knighthood. Orion was the only one from the town who had been able escape; no one else had the money to fund the journey.

"Rye," she started slowly, as if talking to a child, "I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I can't just pack up and leave Melina."

"Ava, what do you have holding you here?"

Ava felt her temper envelop up like a warm breeze. "Orion, I may not have much, but I have a home. My situation may not be as ideal as yours, but we can't all be born into fortunate families. I'm doing my best here, and I should be thankful for what I have and not lusting after a life that was never meant for me to have!"

Orion's temper matched her own. "Thankful?" he laughed without humor, "Is that what he tells you, Ava? To be thankful for the bruises and the broken ribs that he gives you?" He put his hand up to silence her when she opened her mouth to argue. "Ava you deserve so much better than a life in this hell hole. You have to get out."

Ava stared defiantly into his eyes. "Not all of us can afford that trip, Orion. Not all of us can afford to leave."

Orion sighed, "Just ask my parents for help. My mother would do anything for you."

"And live with the shame? The shame of being the daughter of the town drunk. The shame of needing to borrow money from my dead mother's friend in order to survive. The shame of being too helpless to escape on my own. You speak as if you understand my situation, but you don't know what you ask of me. " She exhaled slowly, defeated. "Yeah, Rye bread, sounds good."

"Let me help you, Ava." He said gently.

"No, Orion. I'll leave him on my own terms. That way he'll have no one to blame but himself."

"Okay, okay," he said, holding his hands up in defeat. "You can't blame me for worrying." He scrunched up his face, trying to relieve the tension.

"And you can't blame me for fighting you," she countered, punching him gently in the arm. "You know I can't resist a good argument."

Orion pushed her in return, smiling. "Besides, I'm not sure Elixia could handle Miss Ava Randolph, lady of sass, magnet of trouble, heartbreaker of men-"

"Rye bread…" Ava growled in warning.

"Expert of Defiance, lover of disemboweling moves…"

"You asked for it!" she exclaimed grabbing after him. Orion dodged her attack, running into the grove of trees they had played in countless times as children. She raced after him, their laughter echoing behind them.

"This is your last try," Orion whispered into Ava's ear.

"Stop it," Ava hissed. "I have one more after this, and you know it."

"Do I?" he replied, his breath tickling her ear. She felt a shiver, whether of annoyance or pleasure she couldn't tell. "Get off me," she said, swatting at his stomach and knocking him away.

She tried to concentrate, but found it difficult. Orion was back, but now he was tall and filled out, handsome, 16-year-old Orion. He left a scrawny boy, all gangly arms and legs and returned a man.

"You're holding the sling shot all wrong," he teased, moving to help her with her form.

"You're trying to throw off my shot," Ava said, nudging him away with her hip. He laughed and pretended to stumble, and she couldn't help but notice him out of the corner of her eye. He looked like the Orion she knew, but something about him was different.

Somehow, in the last four years, Orion had changed. He was older and much stronger. She wasn't sure she could wallop him anymore. She shook her head and turned her focus back to the task at hand, refocusing.

Orion bet her a fresh muffin that she couldn't hit the beehive above Ms. Henrietta's tea parlor within three shots. Ava jumped at the opportunity, seeing as all the older women who were frequent patrons were there for their afternoon gossip session. More than once Ava had been the victim of their judgmental looks and snide remarks.

"I don't have all day—" Orion started.

Ava released the taunt sling, her aim true, and the beehive fell with a crack. She immediately left her hiding place and tossed the slingshot towards Orion. Without warning, she gathered her skirts to her knees and took off at a sprint, laughing as she heard the screams of panic arise from the snooty women.

After finding herself at their tree, she stopped, bending over to catch her breath and remove a thorn from her big toe. She heard Orion's gentle steps behind her and she turned, grinning.

"You're still as slow as I remember," she said, putting her hands on her hips as she caught her breath.

Orion wiped at his sweaty brow. "You're just small…and nimble…and crazy," he said, collapsing to the ground.

Ava sat down, her back leaning against the trunk of the tree and her legs outstretched. "Orion, when did we grow up?"

Orion closed his eyes. "Never—I refuse to." He laced his fingers and rested his hands on his chest. "Oh!" He said, sitting up quickly and pulling something out of his breast pocket. "You dropped this." He reached out his hand, and in his palm was a small tarnished, silver locket. "I know how special it is to you. I think the chain is broken."

She inhaled sharply. Her necklace! Her mother had given her that locket the night she passed away. It was the only thing Ava had of hers, everything else been sold. In fact, she was sure if her father knew about the locket, he would sell it as well. Her mother had given it to her as a token of hope—hope that she'd be able to survive her father.

Ava shuddered as she crawled over to Orion, knowing she hadn't kept the promise she made to her mother. With shaky hands, she took the tiny gold locket from him. "Thank you," she said, examining the damage. She sighed, knowing she could never afford to fix it.

"You look like her, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"Your eyes especially," Orion said, giving her a look that made her cheeks burn.

"I need to go, I have hundreds of things to do," Ava blurted out, jumping to her feet and clutching the locket in her fist. She peeked through the treetops to the sky, and gasped. "I've been gone far too long."

She saw Orion's light brown eyes study her face, eyebrows drawn in concern. "I'll walk you home."

Ava hesitated, "You can walk me to the clearing, but no further. No one can know we were together. If my father found out…"

Orion's jaw twitched, but before he could say anything Ava turned on her heel and led the way through the woods. He shook his head and caught up to her quickly, strolling through the grove of trees in silence.

"You are an ungrateful, lazy wench!" Damien bellowed. His tanned and leathered face was ugly with anger, sweat collecting on his crooked nose threatened to drip on her. How she noticed that small detail through the pain, she didn't know.

Ava lost count of the blows. She lost count of the kicks, the lashings, the names.

"I heard you were off gallivanting with that rich boy! Bet he paid you to lay with him in the field, did he?" Ava bit her lip as she felt another kick, this one in her ribs. She rolled over, her left hand holding fast to her locket, and she felt hope rise within her. The only thing this beating was doing was increasing her will to finally be free. She heard him turn, looking for his belt, and knew what she had to do. Weakly, she got to her hands and knees and started crawling towards the front door.

"You won't own me anymore," she muttered, pulling herself feebly to her feet and staggering towards her escape.

She had barely opened the door and taken four steps when she felt her father shove her from behind, her head cracking on the cobblestone path. "There is no escape," he said darkly.

Ava slowly raised her bruised, bleeding chin up in defiance. "Hit me again," she whispered vehemently, "I dare you."

She could see something snap in Damien's crazed eyes. She saw stars as the back of his hand collided with her face, effectively knocking her down. Her vision clouded.

She felt him kneel close to her. "Perhaps this will finally teach you a lesson," he snarled. "I always win, Ava."

And with that, he strode back into the cottage slamming the door shut behind him.

Ava spat the metallic taste of blood from her mouth, blackness swimming in her vision. Unconsciousness would be bliss. She hated feeling this weak, this full of pain. I will have my freedom, she thought through her fading consciousness.

She could hear the birds chirping, hidden high up in the vast branches of the trees as the darkness took her. They sounded so happy and free. And she wanted that freedom more than anything.

Ava awoke to a gentle cloth cleaning her wounds.

"Who?" she rasped, her back going rigid.

"Well, look who's awake! And all I can say is I'm surprised you still have all your teeth!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice.

Ava struggled to sit up, anxiously trying to identify her surroundings, but stopped her efforts when the world spun and her head pounded. She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to suppress the nausea that overcame her. What was this place? Had she died? She somehow imagined Heaven being less painful.

She felt a cool cloth being draped over her eyes and winced. "Shhh…stay down. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Who are you?" she demanded after a few moments, removing the warm cloth from her eyes and cracking her swollen lids open.

A head popped into view, and the first thing Ava noticed was the generous amount of fiery red hair that was perfectly unruly. A closer look revealed a girl close to her age, 14 or 15, with light, freckled skin, and honey brown eyes.

"Tori at your service. I'm what you may refer to as a 'savior' of sorts and have come to take you out of this mess of a life," she said with a dramatic flourish, grinning widely.

"My savior?" Ava was starting to get worried; it was hard to think straight. "But how do you know me? Where did you come from?"

Tori frowned. "That's not the reaction I was hoping for." She paused, chewing her lip. "Did you know I've been watching you for a while now, waiting for the right moment to save you? Oh no, that sounded less freakish in my mind. What I'm trying to say is—"

"You're out of your mind. And if you were trying to save me, you arrived just a little late." Ava took a few shallow breaths. "I'm sure he cracked a few ribs."

Tori blinked, a touch uncertain. "No one said that our recruits would be feisty," she muttered to herself before continuing. "First things first," she started, plunging the washcloth into a basin and squeezing it tight, excess water splashing to the floor.

"I'm here to recruit you to possibly join a very exclusive group. You have been selected as someone who wouldn't be missed and we could use to our advantage. No one," she said, pausing her gentle scrubbing to gaze into Ava's swollen eyes, "can know about us."

"What exclusive group recruits no named girls who won't be missed?" Ava asked, eyeing Tori wearily as she poured some white powder into a bowl of broth. "Doesn't sound much better than where I am now." She blinked her swollen eyes, her mouth opening slightly. "If you think for one second that I'm willing to become a brothel maiden, you're—"

Tori laughed and shook her head, effectively cutting Ava's comment short. She chewed her lip a moment, stirring the bowl that she had just put powder in. "Well, I'll tell you what—I'm definitely not a mistress of any sort," she said, blushing a bit before giggling and continuing, albeit cautiously. "I belong to a group called Argot. It's a…society that takes in girls like you and me and turns them into something that both the Kingdom and the girls benefit from. We are trained, refined, and made heroes of the Kingdom."

Ava felt that Tori's brief explanation only brought more questions. "What do you mean by 'girls like you and me'?"

"Abused girls, of course," Tori said nonchalantly, setting down the bowl of broth and picking up the other bowl, the one without powder. "Now please, there's not much I'm allowed to say other than this. Either you're interested and we begin to train, or I leave you here to make your own way." Tori sighed, her eyes darting between both of the bowls of broth before settling hopefully on Ava.

"I know you have no reason to trust me, and you probably have a lack of trust in people in general. I'm sure you've endured more than any girl your age should have to, but there is a way out besides death. Just…just trust me?" Tori asked, her brown eyes wide.

Ava contemplated the girl as she spoke. Tori was right—she had absolutely no reason to trust her. Except for the fact that she had saved her life, was helping clean her wounds, and offering her an escape.

"There is a catch," she said, as if she had forgotten. "Isn't there always? You leave your old life behind completely. I'll help you stage your own death, which, in turn, ensures that there aren't any trails that can be followed back to us. You have to discard your name, of course, and you choose your new name. Can't keep living with a dead girl's name!" She said with a smile. "Want to know why mine's Tori? Well honestly, even if you didn't care to know I'd tell you. 'Tori' is short for 'Victoria,' which means 'victory' or something of the like. Plus it sounds regal, and I always thought I was destined for royalty."

There was suddenly a lull in conversation, and Ava took it as a moment to speak up. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

Tori's face sobered a bit. "I would never give a beaten girl a reason to live when all others had been taken, only to reveal that it was a trick. And truthfully, I've never done this before. You're the first girl I've recruited. I may be a bit…over zealous, but Ava," Tori said, grasping one of Ava's hands. "I've been in your shoes before. I know this is hard, but you can rest easy because we will never let that man touch you again."

Ava liked the sound of that. And she had nothing to lose, right?

"So you'll stage my death?"

Tori nodded eagerly, her curly hair bouncing. "My favorite part."

"And if I refuse?"

Tori raise a brow, her left hand moving towards the other cup of broth. "Do you plan to?"

Ava gave a gentle shake of her head. "What do I have to lose?"

"Nothing at all. Now here's some broth for you," she said, handing Ava the small bowl that was in her lap and reaching over to dump the other one out on the floor.

Ava's eyes widened. "Were you going to kill me if I refused?"

Tori threw her head back and laughed. "No, but I did put some tilly root in there to make you forget the last hour if you had. We're big on the secrecy thing."

"Well, here's to secrets," Haven said and tipped the entire contents of the bowl into her mouth.

She didn't need much time to think on her decision. This was the escape she needed. A new life was waiting for her, one without Damien in it. She knew it would be hard to leave her friends behind, Orion especially. If he knew the truth, she thought, he would understand…

It had been easy to stage her death as a suicide. At first Ava was opposed to the idea, but Tori convinced her it would be the best way out. Ava finally consented and she hoped that Orion was smart enough to know she'd never do that to herself. Maybe that will help him to have a hope she was still alive. To the townsfolk of Melina, it appeared that the girl had lost all hope and flung her battered body into the river and drowned herself. Her body was found atop a waterlogged tree branch.

Tori had given her a special herbal concoction known as the sleeping death that made her heartbeat slow and her breathing shallow so that it appeared as though she were dead. Once her body was seen and taken to a morgue, Tori broke in, hauling two sandbags with her through the window, and gave Ava the antidote. The girls hid the sandbags in the casket and escaped without anyone knowing.

"Ava Randolph, may she rest in peace and harmony." The old priest finished, his white and gold robed body moving slowly to the casket. She peered down as his wrinkled, age-spotted hands hovered above the wooden casket. He whispered a series of words in an ancient tongue. They sounded beautiful. Suddenly, the casket was enveloped by a bright sapphire light, magic snaking through the intricate designs on the chestnut wood and sealed the coffin closed forever.

This kind of magic made her uneasy. Ancient magic was long forgotten except for few incantations the priests performed for the birth and death of a soul. Although this magic was supposed to be special, it seemed eerie to her.

The funeral neared its end and nobody noticed the girl in the rafters.

She could still hear her grandmother's muffled sobs and Damien's tattered black boot tapping the ground in impatience. She allowed herself one last glance at her old life: Damien's curly blond hair, Gramama's bent body, and—she paused. Orion. His head was bowed and his fingers were clenched into a tight fist. She couldn't look at him until now. She bit her lip and fingered the new golden chain clasped around her neck holding her mother's locket. She had found the chain on her doorstep the night she "died" and knew was a gift from him. No one else knew about the necklace.

And for a brief moment, she allowed herself to mourn with him.

Ava Randolph was truly dead.

She rose to her feet, wincing as the stiches in her brow tugged, and silently moved toward the little window that lead to the bell tower and made her way onto the roof. She was headed to her new life in her new safe haven. Haven, she mused. My new name.

And, for the first time in a long time, she felt hope.

**Authors note: Hey guys! This is my first attempt at original fiction. This is my absolute favorite genre, my inspirations being Sara J. Maas (Throne of Glass Series), Robin LaFevers (His Fair Assassin Series), Tamora Pierce (Tortall Series), Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel), Maria L. Snyder (Poison Study Series), and the likes. Please, any constructive critism would be loverly. Many thanks to my incredible beta, SparkeyGirl, and to my BFF of 17 years and copilot of this endeavor, Julie T.S.