First Steps: Touch of Insanity, #1

By Rosa Marchisella

THE WHOLE WORLD HAS GONE MAD

The goddess Mischa has gone mad. Cities fall into ruin, the dead rise, magical rifts tear open the fabric of reality, and insanity spreads through Besamie like wildfire.

 

Kharee wanted a simple life, but the gods had other plans for her. Created specifically to heal Mischa, Kharee's powers were kept from her when dark magic interfered with her conception. As agents of darkness close in, Kharee must discover the truth about herself and her missing powers if she is to live long enough to fulfill her destiny. Join Kharee and her friends in this fast-paced adventure.

 

Touch of Insanity is a complete series with cliffhangers that require the books to be read in order.

Book 1: First Steps
Book 2: Abbey Isle
Book 3: Forging Ahead
Book 4: Each According Their Worth
Book 5: Into Darkness
Book 6: The Fallen
Book 7: The Birth of Pain
Book 8: The Great Divide
Book 9: Tarna'Hala
Book 10: From Ashes

Book 11: Blood of Darkness

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ember Park Imprint
• Release date: Jan 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781989016046

Rosa Marchisella

Rosa Marchisella is the author of the gripping Touch of Insanity series and bone-chilling novella, The Greatest of Books. Her stories focus on fantasy, paranormal, and thrilling adventures. A dynamic and prolific story-teller, Rosa has earned critical praise as a writer, stage actress, vocalist, public speaker, and artist. Her hobbies include gardening, hikes, and playing games with her kids.

Book preview

Chapter 1

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Clem’s firm muscles trembled under my hand. Years of working on our sheep farm had transformed him from a gangly boy into an oak-solid man. The heat of his body radiated like an oven, his tanned skin slick with sweat. Our hoarse panting carried through the afternoon air.

Give it . . . up! I gasped through clenched teeth, locked in his arms. I’ve got . . . you beat.

In a sheep’s eye. Clem grunted and groped for a better hold.

The farmhand fought better than anyone I knew, but I held my own. A lifetime of working on the farm, sparring, and wrestling with him had made us equal in skill and strength.

Jack barked and danced around us, a flurry of slobber and excitement.

Ignoring the dog, I braced my knee against the water trough for better leverage. In another moment, I would topple Clem headlong into it and claim victory. In this case, victory was the right to pass off an arduous task to the loser. If I won, Clem would spend the next day checking the western fence for rot.

Clem shifted his weight to counter my ploy and flashed a wide smile. Most girls went weak in the knees at his charm. Too bad for him, I wasn’t like most girls. Our familiarity and my desire to avoid spending a day inspecting wood helped me resist the typical swoon he induced.

Kharee!

I jerked in automatic response to my name and lost my tenuous advantage. With a quick and merciless motion, Clem flipped me through the air. I landed in the trough with a harpy shriek and a mouthful of sun-warmed water.

Sputtering, I turned a wrathful glare toward my father. I almost had him!

A haunted look in Father’s eyes stopped me with the solidity of a wall. The lines etched into his tanned face from years of laughter made him look frightfully old. Before I could understand the odd expression, Father blinked, and it was gone.

Clem leaned down to offer his arm, and a shock of black hair fell across his eyes. At least we’ve washed some of the stink off you.

Jack nosed his way between us. I shoved the dog aside as Clem hauled me out of the trough.

What do sheep care if I smell as bad as they do? I muttered, peeling off my sodden vest.

It’s not the sheep I worry about, Father said. It’s your mother. If she saw you right now, it’d take a hundred years off her life.

It’s her fault, Clem teased. Elf blood makes Kharee this way.

I glared at him. "What way?"

"This way! Clem rumpled my sandy hair. You tear around like the autumn wind!"

I’ll have to work on that, I grumbled, pouring the water out of my boots. Perhaps I need to be more like a winter gale to land you in the trough.

The gods preserve us! Clem replied. Then you’d take after your father!

Father’s brown eyes twinkled, and he clapped Clem on the shoulder. Truer words have never been spoken, lad.

I stiffened. What’s wrong with being like you?

Not a thing, Kharee. Father pulled me into a one-armed hug and kissed my wet temple. Not a single thing.

I leaned into the embrace, safe and secure against his broad chest, and heaved a contented sigh. By the triple gods, I love my life.

Father sent me to dry off and change. Whatever he wanted to say to me was left unsaid and forgotten by the time I curled up in a chair with A Dragon’s Tale. It was my favorite book. I reverently flipped through the gold-edged pages and admired the carefully painted pictures. Although I couldn’t read, I knew the story by heart. Mother read it to me so often that her fingers had worn marks on the red leather cover.

Mother returned from putting my sisters to bed, and I held the book out to her. Will you read to me tonight?

Another night, Kharee. I need to speak with you about an important matter. She perched on the edge of the chair with the same haunted look Father wore earlier. You are seventeen now. Old enough. It is time for you to marry.

Marry? I put the book aside. To Clem?

No, not Clem.

I heaved a sigh of relief. Although a great farmhand, I never considered spending my life with Clem or bearing his children. In fact, I hadn’t given my future any thought. I enjoyed living one day at a time.

Who? Someone I know? Most of the men in Felton were married or old.

You do not know him, Mother said, wrapping her arms around me. His name is Lord Erik of the House Perfan’Lex.

Elven. My stomach lurched. I didn’t know Lord Erik, but I knew of him. The ruling reeve of Scorl province, he upheld the King’s Law, collected taxes, and cared for the people.

What does an elf lord want with a half-breed peasant?

Before you were born, your father and I made a promise. It is time to keep that promise.

I sat upright. You promised me to a stranger? Why?

Mother avoided my gaze. He is very wealthy.

I snorted. The husband-to-be usually gave the bride’s family animals or goods to replace the loss of a daughter. A wealthy lord like Erik would pay in gold. But why? I couldn’t sew, weave, or even cook a decent meal. What kind of man would find me worth marrying? Surely, he didn’t have sheep to tend.

Money? I asked, eyebrows high in disbelief. For me.

He will have no other. Come along. Mother took my hand and stood. Lord Erik is expecting a proper young lady. I have filled a tub for you.

Marriage and a bath? I shuddered and dragged my heels as Mother led me to the kitchen. The tub sat in a curtained-off area, water warm enough to steam.

Mother snatched the feathered cap I was wearing, and I protested. She shook her head, cap clutched to her chest with an iron grip. It is past time to grow out your hair.

She stripped me like I was still a child while I fought back tears. Father had given me the cap on my thirteenth birthday. It was the same soft green as our lush fields, and he’d found the white feather the day I was born. Father said white feathers are a good omen. It reminded me of birds flying free over our lands, which also seemed like a good omen.

No more romping through the fields with Jack, Mother instructed. You will wear proper dresses and—

I groped for my hunting knives to remove them from my belt, and she slapped my hand away.

Gods forbid, child!

But—

Mother shoved me into the tub. My days of wrestling and running wild abruptly ended with a squeal and a splash of jasmine water.

Scrub! Mother handed me a piece of soap root and glared at me until I started lathering. Tucking a golden strand of hair behind her pointed ear, she picked up my discarded clothes and held them at