Page 50 of Claimed By the Viking

A rush of wind, ferocious in its suddenness, sent him tumbling to the ground, and he was brought up sharply by a splintering pain. His head had struck something hard.

He felt wetness above his brow. He was bleeding but alive. The gods had saved him. Their verdict was clear—they saw reason for him to live.

Signy’s cool fingers brushed back his hair. “I’m here. Don’t move!”

Blood dripped through his lashes, and he smeared it away, blinking.

Something was different.

Where once there had been black, there were now shades of gray—both darkness and light. Vague shapes shifted before his eyes. His heart leapt at the realization.

My vision! Am I to see again?

“Viggo!” A soft palm cupped his face.

He could not discern her features but there was no doubt it was Signy.

He struggled to regain his feet. Where was Ulva? Signy wouldn’t be safe until he’d gotten her away.

“Beware! Your mother lured me here to push me to my death.”

“I saw her.” Signy gave him her arm. “Be careful. You’re close to the edge… and this wind! It’s dangerous.”

Never had he heard such sadness in Signy’s voice. He yearned to wrap her close.

“How could you,Móðir?”Signy shot the accusation at Ulva, who, he assumed, was the other blurred shape coming into view.

“Foolish child!” Ulva reeled toward them, her arms raised.

Signy’s entreaties pounded in Viggo’s ears as she fought off more blows from her mother.

Viggo thrashed out wildly, intent on stopping Ulva, but the wind whirled stronger than ever—a maelstrom that threw him once more to the ground.

With a gasping whimper, Signy landed beside him.

Ulva, a swift-moving shadow that passed across his vision, let out a shriek, then there was silence… until Signy’s scream charged the air.

CHAPTER 18

Signy clungto Viggo as the wind’s turmoil swept around them. Then, the gale abated as swiftly as it had risen.

Raising her gaze, she scanned about, but there was no sign of her mother.

“Móðir!” Leaping up, Signy raced to the precipice, peering over. To her horror, snagged upon a jutting gorse bush was Ulva’s shawl.

Oh, Freyja! Please, don’t let it be so!

She leaned out as far as she dared. Below, at the very foot, where the cliffs met the sands, a dark shape lay sprawled, the legs twisted at an unnatural angle.

Signy dropped to her knees with a wailing moan. The pain in her heart seared hot.

“Signy, what is it? Tell me!” Viggo was suddenly at her side.

“Careful!” Signy’s instinct brought her arm out to contain him. “We’re right upon the edge. I can’t have you… you can’t…” She could speak no more, her voice lost to tears.

Viggo’s embrace came about her. “Is she…? Can you see her?”

Signy pressed into his warmth, glad of his comfort as she wept.

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