Coffee in the morning and chai in the afternoon is fueling my writing and editing spree as I get across the finish line. When I started working on the Prophesied Princeseries, I decided to use more authentic medieval Indian names. Half my editing time now goes into wondering if a place was called Jalpaiguri or Jaipaiguri and opening my glossary for the 100th time. The joys of writing are many!
Other than that, my editing of Curse of the River is moving steadily, and I cannot wait to get this sequel into your hands.
I recently heard back from my beta readers, and their reactions have been everything I hoped for.
One reader shared:
“Wow! That was a sad but powerful ending to the book! OK, I can’t wait for the conclusion. Really enjoyed this book.”
Another was caught off guard by the final pages:
“Wow!!! The story ends with a cliffhanger for both main characters, but the epilogue! That is quite stark and surprising. I very much look forward to seeing where you take us in book three.”
Preorder Curse of the River Here
A Glimpse into the Journey
To give you a sense of the tension and emotional depth my beta readers are describing, here is an excerpt from Curse of the River:
Chapter 1 – Sugandha Spring Year 2
For most of that first day on the river, Prince Atul rowed like a man expecting trouble. His gaze swept the banks, searching for signs of pursuit. Whenever he spotted someone, too far from us to tell if they were fishermen or travelers, he quieted his strokes and steered us farther from shore.
Sweat glazed his muscles as he rowed with the strength of three men. Suddenly, his head snapped toward a thicket of trees by the water’s edge; his eyes were sharp and his jaw set. He looked like a hunter watching for movement. I studied him in that moment, still unsure if I had been brave or foolish to ask him to come.
“Crouch,” he whispered, in the kind of voice that expected to be obeyed. He folded in on himself, head tucked to his knees. I stayed upright, eyes sweeping the landscape for whatever had rattled him, until his hand pressed down on my head and forced me lower.
“With instincts like yours, how did you survive this long?” he murmured, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“By not trusting strangers,” I shot back, though I stayed crouched. My brush with the nagas had made me bolder, yes; but I was not foolish enough to believe a divine rescue would come every time I found myself in trouble.
Read the full excerpt at annabushi.com.
Anna Bushi 