Category: Prophesied Prince

The River’s Toll: Beta reader reveals

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.

The River Chronicles: Chapters 11–20 (Crocodiles, Curses, and the Scent of Ghee)

Welcome back to the banks of the river, travelers. If you are just joining us, you’ll want to start at the very beginning. You can find my notes for the Prologue through Chapter 10 right here.

And of course, it is much more fun if you have the story in your hands (or your ears!). If you haven’t yet, you can grab the book here or listen to it on Audible.

Spoiler Warning

We are diving deep into the heart of the story today. If you aren’t caught up through Chapter 20, proceed with caution!

Chapter 11: Crocodiles and Unwanted Affections

In Chapter 11, Sugandha learns a hard lesson: being a hero is exhausting. There is truly no better way to discover the limits of your own magic than while fighting for your life against a crocodile.

But the real “plight” for our protagonist isn’t just the giant, prehistoric beast. It’s the unwanted attention that comes afterward. Because she is disguised as a boy, she earns the admiration of a young woman who starts eyeing her as a future husband. In that moment, can you really blame Sugandha for wishing the crocodile had just finished the job?

No such luck for her, though. I have plenty more ordeals waiting around the bend.

The Cost of Deception

One of my favorite things to explore is the psychological toll of a lie. Sugandha is living as a boy, learning the grueling, beautiful art of swordmaking. These chapters give her a brief respite, a moment of “normal” work, but the guilt is starting to rot.

Her emotions are a mess. She feels terrible for deceiving Parimala, yet she aches for the life she left behind. I wanted to capture that specific longing a girl feels when she has not worn a dress or makeup or jewels in ages. In this medieval world, it is craving for Kajal under her eyes and the scent of jasmine flowers woven into her hair. Every deception runs its course eventually, and Sugandha is beginning to realize that her safety is a very fragile thing.

A Childhood Memory: The Magic of Ghee

Food is the soul of my stories. In this chapter, Sugandha is served extra ghee over her white rice, and writing that took me straight back to my own childhood.

Ghee originated in India over three thousand years ago. In that hot climate, butter would go rancid almost instantly. By heating it to remove the water and milk solids, our ancestors created “ghrita” (Sanskrit for clarified butter), a fat with a long shelf life and a heavenly scent.

Beyond the kitchen, ghee became sacred. It is the purest offering to the gods, used in yagnas (fire rituals) to carry prayers to the heavens. 

Favorite Line: > “I felt like I climbed a giant ladder whose rungs shattered with each step I took.”

Read the rest of the behind the scenes of Sugandha’s deception, Atul’s insecurity, and the ancient Tamil ethics that guide my writing on my Substack.

SUBSTACK

Take Off Your Shoes and Come On In: The Child of the River Read-Along

Hello, fellow time travelers! I am so excited to kick off this journey with you. There is something uniquely terrifying and thrilling about opening up the pages of a world I’ve built and saying, “Take off your shoes and come on in.”

If you’ve been following my work, you know Prophesied Prince trilogy is a spin off of my Land of Magadha trilogy. If you’re new here—welcome to the family! Child of the River is where we start a brand new chapter together.

Before we dive into the secrets of the river, a few house rules:

⚠️ A Fair Warning

This post contains spoilers for the prologue and the first ten chapters. If you haven’t grabbed your copy of Child of the River yet, consider this your sign to go get it, find a cozy corner, and catch up so we can chat about it together.

🎨 A Note on History vs. Heart

While I strive to honor the vibrant textures of Indian culture, customs, and (most importantly) food, please remember that I am an author of fiction, not a historian. I’ve taken plenty of artistic liberties to make the magic and the world feel real. To the historians out there: I beg your forgiveness! 

Why You Can’t Skip This Prologue

I know, I know. Some of you are “Prologue Skippers.” You want to get straight to Chapter One. Don’t do it. Not only does this Prologue set the stage for everything Sugandha is about to face, but it’s the secret bridge between worlds. For those who have read my Land of Magadha trilogy, what happens here explains exactly what that mysterious ship was doing at the end of Burden of the Crown.

Read the rest of the secrets and see the historical inspirations on my Substack.

Substack

Leadership & the Human Heart: Why I Write Royals

One of the themes I constantly return to, whether I’m writing romance or fantasy, is the question: What truly makes a good ruler?

In my daily life, I’ve always been fascinated by government and policy. In my writing, I find that medieval India provides the perfect “laboratory” to explore these ideas. Setting my stories in this era—specifically emulating the rich culture and laws of the 9th to 11th centuries—allows me to examine leadership and the “human heart in conflict” without the interference of modern political biases.

Medieval India possessed such complex layers of governance that it creates a fantastic playing field for my characters. This is why my protagonists are often of royal blood; it places them at the intersection of love, duty, and the ultimate test of character. I love placing these characters in difficult situations to see how they learn to survive and lead, even when their own power is fragile.

For me, a great leader must be able to sacrifice their own desires for the good of the kingdom. We see this struggle throughout the Prophesied Prince trilogy as Prince Atul grapples with his identity and the weight of his future. He follows in the footsteps of his mother, Meera, from the Land of Magadha series, who had to choose between her heart and her land.

I’d love to hear from you: If you could choose just one quality for a leader to have, what would it be? Leave a comment and let’s discuss!

Blood, Blades, and Muted Gold

I am absolutely delighted to finally reveal the cover of my upcoming novel, Curse of the River, the second installment in the Prophesied Prince trilogy.

This cover has quickly become one of my favorites. To keep the visual thread tied to the first book, Child of the River, I have returned to the imagery of the crown of Kashgar. However, as the story evolves, so does the symbol of its power.

What to Look For:

  • A Muted Legacy: While the first cover featured a crown surrounded by cascading water, this crown is a much muted gold.
  • Darker Omens: You’ll notice something dark dripping from the crown—a nod to the fact that this sequel is a significantly darker journey than the first.
  • New Symbols: Instead of the swan, we have introduced a winged horse. This rakshasa (demon or monster) and other mythical ones play a pivotal role in the story, and I can’t wait for you to encounter them.
  • The Blades: In the center, you’ll see two blades crossing. They hold significance to the difficult path Prince Atul and Sugandha must walk together.

This cover perfectly captures the heart of this book and the growing danger lurking in the lands of Kashgar. Let me know in the comments what you think about this cover.

First draft done

Eighty-three thousand words in, the story finally learned how to stand on its own—and then promptly broke my heart.

This book has been living in my head for a long time, but writing it still surprised me. One of the unexpected joys was returning to familiar ground. A few characters with ties to The Land of Magadha slipped into this story, and weaving those threads back to my very first series felt deeply satisfying. It reminded me that these worlds are still alive—that time has passed, but nothing is ever truly left behind.

At the center of Curse of the River are two protagonists thrown together whether they like it or not. They spend a lot of time irritating each other, challenging each other, and—very reluctantly—learning from one another. Writing their interactions became one of my favorite parts of the book. Their conversations are sharp, sometimes petty, often restrained, and always revealing. They don’t grow through grand declarations, but through friction.

Rakshasas—shape-shifting demons from Hindu mythology—make several appearances, and they are anything but gentle. Their presence pulls the story into darker territory, putting our protagonists in real, mortal danger. They’re clever, cruel, and deeply unsettling, and I loved letting them haunt the edges of the narrative.

But the heart of this book belongs to Sugandha.

As she begins to understand where she comes from—and what that truth costs—the story itself changed shape. Some answers can’t be uncovered without loss, and some truths leave scars. Walking Sugandha toward that realization was both exhilarating and devastating.

And then there’s the ending.

I won’t say much, except this: writing it broke my heart into many pieces. It felt inevitable and earned—and still cruel. The kind of ending that stays with you long after the final line.

As I move into revisions, I’m holding tightly to what made this draft special: the echoes of older worlds, the sharp companionship at its center, the danger hiding behind every transformation, and the emotional price of truth.

More soon. For now, I’m letting the river run where it will.

Looking Ahead: My Writing Goals for 2026

As I look toward 2026, my writing path feels both clear and a little daunting—in the best possible way. My primary goal is to publish Curse of the River, Book Two of the Prophesied Prince trilogy, and then keep my momentum going straight into writing Book Three, the conclusion of Sugandha and Atul’s journey.

This trilogy has always been a coming-of-age story at its heart—about power that is inherited, power that is chosen, and the cost of both. I’ve been planting seeds for the ending since Book One, even when I didn’t fully understand what they would grow into. Now, as I write deeper into Book Two, I can see the shape of the finale forming on the horizon.

I know this much: the ending will be bittersweet. How much bitter and how much sweet? Even I don’t know yet. My characters certainly don’t. They’re still making choices, still stumbling, still hoping. And I’m following them, page by page, trusting that the story will reveal exactly the ending it demands—whether it breaks my heart a little in the process or not.

What I do know is that I want to give this world, these characters, and you—the readers who’ve walked this road with me—the most honest ending I can write. One that lingers. One that feels earned.

Here’s to a year of rivers that refuse to stay calm, prophecies that don’t behave, and stories that insist on being told.

A Title Revealed

As I close out 2025, it feels right to finally share something I’ve been carrying quietly with me for months—the title of Book Two in the Prophesied Prince trilogy.

Curse of the River.

If Child of the River was about beginnings—a prophecy awakening, a girl fleeing grief, a prince crossing the sea—then Curse of the River is about aftermath. About what lingers once the river has spoken, once the curse has been cast, and once running is no longer enough.

Rivers, in this story, are never just water. They remember. They witness. They bless—and they punish. In Book Two, the river that shaped Sugandha’s fate refuses to loosen its grip. The magic deepens, the truths grow sharper, and the cost of survival becomes harder to ignore. Sugandha is no longer only a girl on the run; she is a young woman beginning to understand that power, once awakened, demands to be reckoned with. And Atul—still haunted by who he is and who he is not—must decide what loyalty, leadership, and sacrifice truly mean when curses do not stay neatly in the past.

I chose this title because it reflects what this book has become for me while writing it: darker, more intimate, and more unforgiving. The river does not simply carry them forward—it tests them. And sometimes, it turns against those who think they understand it.

Revealing this title feels like a promise. To higher stakes. To deeper bonds. To consequences that ripple far beyond a single choice or a single shore.

Welcome to Curse of the River.

🌊 Character Spotlight: Sugandha

Sugandha is the quiet heartbeat of the Prophesied Prince trilogy. I’m deep in Book Two right now, so I’m living in her world every day—and she’s definitely taken up long-term residence in my head.

When we first meet her in Child of the River, she’s grieving the loss of the only family she’s ever known: her grandfather.

“Sorrow and grief filled my heart when I realized I would receive no more guidance from my grandfather. I had never known my parents, and my grandfather had raised me from birth.

Usually, I would stir into wakefulness at this time of day. From my cot, I would hear my grandfather in the kitchen, pulling down pots, grinding an array of herbs, and brewing them.

Those small sounds would bring me peace, and I would snuggle into my sheets and close my eyes… He would grin at me as if I brightened his day just by existing, his wrinkled face glowing.”

One of my favorite chapters featuring her is Chapter 31 (Summer, Year 1). There’s a certain innocence to Sugandha there—one that still survives even as she’s fighting for her life. She stumbles through chaos guided only by instinct and heart, doing what she believes is right, even when she has no idea what’s really happening around her. That combination of bravery and bewilderment is exactly what makes her so compelling to write.

Book Two lets me deepen her dynamic with Atul. These two couldn’t be more different—each carrying their own scars, their own expectations, their own definitions of who they should be. Watching them learn to trust each other, challenge each other, and sometimes collide spectacularly has been one of the joys of drafting this book. This moment between them is from earlier in book two:

“Look at me,” I said, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Imagine what it would mean to master that power,” I said, my voice low. I let the oars still in my hands.

She clenched her jaw, then closed her eyes again. Her breath evened out, arms stretching forward as if reaching for something unseen. I waited. But the river stayed calm.

Then she gasped—clutching her throat like something had seized it—and coughed, harsh and broken.

“Nanda—”

“No.” Her voice came between sobs, ragged and raw. “Stop. You think you understand what it’s like—to carry this wild, flickering thing inside me—but you don’t. You can’t.”

This trilogy is, at its core, a coming-of-age story. Through Sugandha, I wanted to portray a deeply human young woman—strong yet unsure, resilient yet overwhelmed, someone whose magic feels as dangerous as it is wondrous. Her journey isn’t neat or easy, and it mirrors the hardships a girl on the run would face in a world shaped by myth, patriarchy, and the weight of expectations. These are truths often left unexplored in traditional Indian mythology, and Sugandha gives me the space to write into those gaps.

She grows slowly. She stumbles often. But she keeps trying.
And that, to me, is what makes her unforgettable.