Book Title: Cursed (A Balance of Magic #2)
Cover Artist: Jackie
Release Date: March 23,
Tropes: Friends to lovers, love
vs. duty, soul mates, found family, worlds in peril, two against the world,
Series Themes: the world is
fragile, short-term decisions have long-term consequences, gifts are given for a
Heat Rating: 3 flames
Length: 77 000
It is the second book in a
The book does not end on a
cliffhanger. Raijin and Sandro’s story ends on a HFN. The main story arc continues across all
Two friends. Two worlds.
A selfish desire that threatens them both.
Two friends. Two worlds. A selfish desire that threatens
Raijin killed a witch and found himself cursed.
Sandro went to Raijin’s aid and became an assassin’s
Neither expected that they would trigger the biggest
upheaval their world had seen in a thousand years.
And that it needed the love between them to lift the
Cursed, the second book in the Balance of Magic series,
is a slow-burn m/m fantasy romance featuring friends-to-lovers who become soulmates,
irate death gods, curses, inept, narcissistic politicians, curious, compassionate witches, and a
France, Summer 1920
“Poplars and plane trees, beeches and birches, or a
mountainside of firs.” Sandro stared into the bottom of his wine glass and tried to keep the
misery at bay. “Is it really too much to wish for a few olive and lemon trees? I’ve not been
near my grove in six years. Six years, Raijin!”
“What if they’ve dug it up?”
“Why would they?”
Sandro set the glass down. “To spite us,” he said.
Raijin stared at him.
“I know, I know. It’s not like me to think badly of people.”
He waved a hand. “But what other interpretation is there for the way Tan Hao treats us?
Every time we finish a task, he finds another one that keeps us from the base. Do you really
think he does that to everyone?”
Raijin wisely kept his mouth shut.
Sandro was grateful. He’d never been a maudlin drunk, but
the last six years had changed many things. Being prevented from visiting the only home
he’d ever known… hurt. Even if he’d barely spent a day alone while the human world tore
itself to pieces.
Maybe he shouldn’t complain. Especially not to Raijin. He
hadn’t been home for far longer, but… He lifted a hand to summon the waiter and order
another bottle of wine, when Raijin stopped him.
“Come along. I have an idea.”
“The good kind.” Raijin smiled the soft, lopsided smile that
Sandro had no defences against.
“In a moment.”
They paid for their meal and left the restaurant, wandering
up the street towards their lodgings. They had their own courtyard garden, had food, and
even wine, but Sandro had been too restless to stay home, and Raijin had indulged
“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He tried to express his
“Indulging me. I’m… Ignore me.”
“Never.” Raijin unlocked the gate and ushered them into
the place they’d made their base since the Armistice. It was clean, comfortable, and private.
But it wasn’t home.
Sandro had no idea what Raijin meant to do, but he didn’t
have to wonder long. As soon as he’d locked the gate behind them, Raijin took hold of his
arm, opened the veil and tugged Sandro through.
Two steps later, scents of brine and citrus hit his nose. Soft,
springy turf caressed his feet, and one look at the familiar trees had him fight back
Raijin had brought them to the top of the Custodia base.
Had given Sandro what he’d most needed: a visit to his grove of lemon trees.
If he could have touched all his trees at once, he’d have
done so. Since he lacked that ability, he wrapped his arms around the nearest tree, and
The trees responded, impressions wrapping him up like a
cloak: comings and goings, hot sun and sparkling raindrops, a storm from the east. Sandro
soaked it all up like a starving man and shared his own experiences in turn.
After the first sharing was done, Sandro went from tree to
tree, touching, checking, renewing his connection. When he joined Raijin at the centre of
the grove and accepted the glass of wine Raijin had poured him, he hummed with green
energy, his watcher sight as sensitive as it had never been before.
“I wish I could explain—” he began hesitantly.
Only for Raijin to wave it away. “It’s fine. You wanted to
check on your family. I understand.”
Raijin wasn’t demonstrative.
But when he chose to make a point, he took Sandro’s
About the Author
Jackie Keswick was born behind the Iron Curtain with itchy feet, a bent for rocks and a recurring dream of stepping off a bus in the middle of nowhere to go home. She’s worked in a hospital and as the only girl with 52 men on an oil rig, spent a winter in Moscow and a summer in Iceland and finally settled in the country of her dreams with her dream team: a husband, a cat, a tandem, a hammer and a laptop.
Jackie loves unexpected reunions and second chances, and men who write their own rules. She blogs about English history and food, has a thing for green eyes, and is a great believer in making up soundtracks for everything, including her characters and the cat.
And she still hasn’t found the place where the bus stops.
For questions and comments, not restricted to
green eyes, bus stops or recipes for traditional English food, you can find Jackie Keswick in
all the usual places
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