by AA Lee
The Priestess Trials
The Complete Series
AA Lee
Contents
The Priestess Trials
1. Tala
2. Kisig
3. Tala
4. Kisig
5. Tala
6. Kisig
7. Tala
8. Kisig
9. Tala
10. Kisig
11. Tala
12. Kisig
13. Tala
14. Kisig
15. Tala
16. Kisig
17. Tala
18. Kisig
19. Tala
20. Kisig
21. Tala
22. Kisig
23. Tala
24. Kisig
25. Tala
26. Kisig
27. Tala
28. Kisig
29. Tala
30. Kisig
31. Tala
32. Kisig
33. Tala
34. Kisig
35. Tala
36. Kisig
37. Tala
38. Kisig
39. Tala
40. Kisig
41. Tala
Epilogue
High Priestess
1. Kenda
2. Kenda
3. Nora
4. Kenda
5. Kenda
6. Kenda
7. Kenda
8. Nora
9. Kenda
10. Nora
11. Kenda
12. The Fall Guardian
13. Nora
14. Kenda
15. Kenda
16. Kenda
17. Nora
18. Kenda
19. Kenda
20. Nora
21. Kenda
22. Nora
23. Kenda
24. Nora
25. Kenda
26. Kenda
27. Kenda
28. Kenda
29. Kenda
30. Kenda
31. Kenda
32. Kenda
Torch of Greed
The Fall Guardian
1. Kenda
2. Kisig
3. Kenda
4. Kisig
5. Kenda
6. Kisig
7. Kenda
8. Kisig
9. Kenda
10. Kisig
11. Kenda
12. Kisig
13. Tala
14. Kisig
15. Tala
16. Kisig
17. Tala
18. Kisig
19. Tala
20. Kisig
21. Tala
22. Kenda
23. Tala
24. Kenda
25. Kisig
26. Kenda
27. Kisig
28. Kenda
Acknowledgment
Also by AA Lee
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by AA Lee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected].
First edition March 2020
Book one edited by Red Adept Editing
Book two: https://www.novelapproach-ms.co.uk
Book three: https://redadeptediting.com/
Cover by Miblart
Created with Vellum
The Priestess Trials
Book One
Chapter 1
Tala
“Orphan? You missed one.” She heard the distinct sound of roots tearing behind her.
She had a name, but her mistress always liked to call her Orphan. It seemed like whenever her mistress said it, her face lit with satisfaction.
The footsteps grew closer. One, two, three. Dry leaves crackled against her mistress’s abaca slippers.
“Raise your skirt,” Mistress Bituin cooed.
Tala held the hem of her stained dress. In fear of ripping the fabric, Tala never washed it too hard—better to have a dirty dress than face her mistress’s wrath if she needed a new one. She clenched her teeth and tried hard not to make a sound when her mistress whipped her with the weed she’d pulled out.
“Look.” Mistress Bituin held Tala’s chin gently. Tala had nowhere to look but at her mistress’s pale throat. Jealousy moved through her as a red stone pendant hanging from the shiny white necklace her mistress wore mocked her.
Mistress Bituin turned Tala’s head toward the mountain, shattering Tala’s thoughts. “Once the sun reaches the mountaintop, I will count the number of weeds left. Add to that the number of weeds you miss…” She paused and twirled the rice leaves with her index finger. “And that will be the total number of whips you’ll receive.”
Tala’s toes dug into the dry earth baked by the unending summer. If her mistress couldn’t be bothered to count what was left, the beating would be endless.
As soon as Mistress Bituin stepped away, Tala bent at the waist and started grabbing weeds in heaps. Blisters popped on her hands, but her tears washed away the pain. Sweat trickled down her forehead, joining with her tears. She begged the weeds to come to her hands and prayed to the good spirits to help her.
When she reached the last row of rice, the sun still blazed in the sky. She looked up at her mistress, who wore a disappointed expression.
Success, she thought, but she didn’t dare to smile. After she had walked back and forth across the terraced rice and made sure that no weeds peeked out, she was at last satisfied and approached her mistress.
“Hurry!” Mistress Bituin turned to head home. “You have to fetch water.”
Good. Annoyance means I won. The mistress could beat her if she wanted. She was but a slave—an orphan slave—but if there was one thing she respected about Mistress Bituin, it was that she never went back on her word.
Master Langit sat lazily on a hammock made of rattan vines when Mistress Bituin and Tala arrived. His sandy-brown skin blended well with the color of the vines. His colorful bahag, a single piece clothing tied between his legs and around his waist to hide his genitals, was a sharp contrast to the color of the hammock. Men wore bahag instead of dresses. The unrestrictive clothing allowed them to move quickly in activities requiring swiftness, like hunting or battle.
Her master, a former warrior who had lost his job when he’d lost his arm in the last battle between Nayon and Daa, had taken care of Tala until she could understand and follow orders. Whenever the master gave her something, a lengthy reminder of his part in her survival would surely ensue. The master always instilled in her that she must pay that debt, but Tala knew that it wasn’t exactly right. Had they purchased a slave instead of taking her from the war-ravaged enemy village, the cost would have been higher.
Tala veered to the right and stopped, letting Mistress Bituin walk ahead. In the master’s presence, it was best to follow protocol. Even Mistress kept a watchful eye on the master, her movements deliberate and correct. Mistress she may be, but she would not violate custom for fear of retribution. Tala, following suit, would never make the mistake of incurring the master’s wrath.
“Bituin.”
Tala froze but slowly continued walking upon realizing that Master Langit hadn’t called her name. “You know that tomorrow will be the
start of the courtship, don’t you?”
“Of course!”
Tala walked slower, eager to hear their talk.
“Then you should have told the slave to get home early. The rice field is not important right now. We should focus on getting our daughters ready for the suitors tomorrow.”
“I will make sure they’re ready. Don’t worry about that.” It seemed Mistress Bituin was trying to sound upbeat.
Tala and her mistress served dinner without the master scolding them, to Tala’s relief. She sat in the corner, quietly braiding abaca fibers to make a pair of slippers. She pressed her hand against her stomach as another cramp contracted within her. She had tried to ignore the pain since morning. In constant movement, the pain had dulled, but as she grew still, it got stronger and stronger until she couldn’t ignore it any longer. She wondered if it was because she hadn’t eaten lunch, but the pain was different. Hunger was nothing new to Tala, but it had never felt that way.
“The suitors will come around noon tomorrow.” Master Langit picked up the fish Mistress Bituin had deboned with her hands. “Make sure the four of you are ready before noon.”
“Yes, Father,” the four ladies replied as one. They sat a few feet away from their father, their plates on the floor. If they had anything to say about their upcoming marriages, Tala had no idea.
Noon. Tala beamed. She didn’t need to wake up too early to fetch water.
“It looks like our next harvest will be another failure.” Bituin sighed. “The rice stalks were thin when I checked them earlier.”
“Stop sighing in front of the meal!”
“Sorry.” Mistress Bituin continued deboning the last fish. “I just hope rich suitors will come tomorrow.”
“Rich men will come. Don’t worry about that. I made sure that our whole village knew. I also sent word to the villages of Daa and Mani.”
Master Langit finished his meal with a burp. Mistress Bituin beamed with pride and hurriedly ate whatever the master left behind. The four girls finished right after their father, leaving their plates and leftover food on the floor. Quietly, each of them returned to their rooms.
Master Langit turned to Tala after Mistress Bituin finished her dinner. “Eat here, inside.”
Tala did her best not to meet his eyes.
“But, Master… she’s a slave.”
“She needs to eat inside. I don’t want her sneaking food for the other slave.”
Tala froze. Her mind processed the information slowly. She normally ate in the kitchen before doing the dishes.
“Get your bowl.” The master stretched his legs but made no move to leave.
“Y-yes, Master.” Tala walked to the kitchen with her head bowed and picked up her coconut bowl. When she came back into the living room, she scraped the leftover food from the wooden bowls into hers. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to eat the food while her conscience tugged at the back of her mind. Luning will sleep hungry.
In a hurry to escape her master’s and mistress’s eyes, she finished her dinner in no time. Tala kneeled to gather the dishes.
“Blood?” Tala froze at Master Langit’s thunderous voice.
Mistress Bituin inched closer. “I didn’t see your wound. What happened?” The mistress’s voice was devoid of concern. It seemed like mere curiosity drove her to speak.
“B-blood?” Tala stammered. “N-no. I don’t have a wound.”
Mistress Bituin gasped. “No! Not today. We’re doomed. Luning will die, and now you got your monthly visit.” She put her hand on her forehead.
Three weeks ago, a mad dog had bit Luning when she was sent to collect payment for the pig Master had sold. Luning hadn’t brought money back. Instead, she’d come home with a torn skirt and a bleeding leg. The dog had died three days ago, and Luning hadn’t been given food afterward. The master had said that she would die, but Tala thought Luning just had a really bad fever, so she’d hidden rice under her skirt for Luning every night.
“Master, it will be hectic during courtship, and we don’t even know when it will end. We can’t afford to buy another slave,” Mistress Bituin continued.
Master Langit remained speechless. He continued to stare at Tala’s blood-soaked dress.
“Oh! Wait.” Mistress Bituin continued, as if she’d just come up with an incredible solution. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“What is it?” Master Langit tore his eyes away from Tala.
“Let’s sell the girl. Not all suitors can afford our binukot daughters anyway.” All four of their daughters were binukots—girls who had never once set foot under the sun. The paler the girl, the more desirable she would be to a future husband, thus the dowry would also be higher. Families resorted to confining their daughters inside the house all the time to achieve paleness.
Master Langit waved her off. “Nobody is going to buy a slave.”
“She’s no ordinary slave. If she’s clean, she could pass as the daughter of an ordinary farmer. We can sell her to those who do not know her. Perhaps to the Daa villagers. Look at her breasts. She’s way past the normal age of the first monthly visit. We can perhaps sell her for a higher price. We could buy a younger slave and save some money. Younger ones are cheaper, you know.”
Tala turned away slightly in embarrassment. Nobody had made a comment about her breasts before.
“No, she’s doing a good job compared to other slaves. We might have a hard time with others.”
“Master, don’t tell me you’re planning to make her a concubine!”
Tala’s eyes grew wide, and she turned her head up slightly in shock. Fear filled her moments later when she heard a slap. Mistress Bituin cradled her red face as tears fell down her cheeks. She would be in a sour mood, and beating Tala would surely make the mistress feel better.
“You do not raise your voice in front of your husband!” Master Langit was beet red. “The slave will stay in the hut. Don’t let her step in the house. As your punishment, you will do all the housework until she finishes her monthly visit, and don’t lay your hands on her. Her price will go down if her face is blemished.”
The hut? The hut was where their daughters stayed when they had their monthly visits. Tala had been expecting the pigsty. Her heart filled with glee at the thought of not sleeping with the pigs.
“Y-you’re going to sell her?”
Chapter 2
Kisig
Order in the meeting hall fell apart just a few moments into the meeting. If the hall had been built a few feet off the ground, like any other house, Kisig would’ve expected a few officials to have slipped between the cracks in the floor and embarrassed themselves. Instead, the walls stood directly on the earthen ground. Straw mats covered the dirt where officials had sat at the beginning of the meeting. Now they all stood shouting at each other. Most officials had resorted to raising their hands and stomping their feet like children to make their points.
“Be quiet!” Kisig roared, but thunderous shouts and curses drowned out his voice. He had no other option.
A loud beat of the drum made the officials freeze. In that brief moment, Kisig smiled in amusement at how the officials looked like little statues used by the priestesses in ceremonies. Warriors dashed inside the hall, looking for the trouble that had caused someone to beat the drum. Three rapid beats meant the arrival of enemies. Kisig had only beat the drum once, but that didn’t stop the warriors from flocking inside.
The officials stared at him, then in what seemed like a collective thought, they bowed in apology and went back to their mats.
When all the officials had taken their seats, Kisig spoke. “I am not taking sides but, I think the right-side officials have made a valid point. We can’t just steal food from the Daa village. We must find a way to survive the famine without waging war.” He sat back in his chair cushioned with a cotton pillow and looked down at the officials below the stage.
The ten men on his right nodded while the left officials shook their heads. The officials were d
ivided into two groups. Before the official meeting, each group discussed their concerns among themselves. Most of the time, they would come up with a decision before facing the village datu.
“Datu, may I speak?” Hagibis, the white-bearded leader of the left-side officials was not asking permission. He was making a declaration that he needed to be heard. His eyes bore through Kisig in warning. Prior to the meeting, Hagibis had told Kisig to make the officials agree to attack Daa, but Kisig was tired of following Hagibis’s orders. For once, he had spoken what he truly wanted.