Diana Gabaldon

The author of the #1 New York Times bestselling Outlander series returns with the newest novel in the epic tale. The past may seem the safest place to be . . . but it is the most dangerous time to be alive. . . . Jamie Fraser and Claire Randall were torn apart by the Jacobite Rising in 1743, and it took them twenty years to find each other again. Now the American Revolution threatens to do the same. It is 1779 and Claire and Jamie are at last reunited with their daughter, Brianna, her husband, Roger, and their children on Fraser's Ridge. Having the family together is a dream the Frasers had thought impossible. Yet even in the North Carolina backcountry, the effects of war are being felt. Tensions in the Colonies are great and local feelings run hot enough to boil Hell's tea-kettle. Jamie knows loyalties among his tenants are split and it won't be long until the war is on his doorstep. Brianna and Roger have their own worry: that the dangers that provoked their escape from the twentieth century might catch up to them. Sometimes they question whether risking the perils of the 1700s--among them disease, starvation, and an impending war--was indeed the safer choice for their family. Not so far away, young William Ransom is still coming to terms with the discovery of his true father's identity--and thus his own--and Lord John Grey has reconciliations to make, and dangers to meet . . . on his son's behalf, and his own. Meanwhile, the Revolutionary War creeps ever closer to Fraser's Ridge. And with the family finally together, Jamie and Claire have more at stake than ever before.

A Novel

Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone

Sarah Campbell

He spoke, quietly, and I turned my head, thinking I hadn't heard him aright, but I had. I just didn’t know what language he was speaking. 

“That isn't Gàidblig, is it?" I asked dubiously, and he shook his head slowly, eyes still closed.

“Gaeilge," he said. "Irish. I heard it from Stephen O'Farrell, during the Rising. It just came back to me now. 

"My body is out from my control," he said softly. "She was the half of my body — the very half of my soul.”

“Oh, surely a person is entitled to more than one name" the S. plied, his eyes creasing in amusement. "You have more names than Murray, I am certain — for after all, that one must have belonged to your husband.”

Jenny looked taken aback, but then realized, as Rachel had, that the Sanchem was well enough acquainted with European custom as to have recognized her by her dress as a widow. Either that, Rachel thought, amused, or he's a good guesser. 

Her amusement vanished in the next instant when the Sachem took Jenny's hand in his and said, quite casually, “He is still with you — your husband. He says to tell you that he walks upon two legs." 

Jenny's mouth fell open and so did Rachel's. 

“Yes, I was born with it," the Sachem said, smiling as he released Jenny's hand. “But the name of my manhood — should you prefer to use it — is Okàrakarakhkwa. It means 'sun shining on snow’,” he added, his eyes creasing again. 

"Blessed Michacl, defend us" Jenny said under her breath in Gaelic. "Aye." she said in a louder voice, and drawing herself up straight, managed the ghost of a gracious smile. "Sachem will do fine for now. My name's Janet Flora Arabella Fraser Murray. Ye can call me Mrs. Janet. if ve like."

I was coming out of the smoke shed with several rashers on a plate when a bit more of what I was determincdly not thinking about bubbled up. Bree had told me — and Jamie — about the letter Frank had left for her. An extremely disturbing letter, on multiple levels. But what was echoing in the back of my mind just now was the last paragraph of that letter: 

And... there's him. Your mother said that Fraser sent ber back to me, knowing that I would protect her — and you. She thought that he died immediately afterward. He did not. I looked for bim, and I found him. And, like him, perhaps I send you back, knowing — as he knew of me —  that he will protect you with his life. 

For the first time, it occurred to me that even if Jamie was right, and Frank was making an attempt to tell him something — it might be a warning, rather than a threat.

It was some time before order was restored. 

Jamie's half-healed sternum hurt amazingly, and he was not the only member of the congregation who had laughed themselves to tears. He found that he couldn't stop, though. Claire handed him a clean handkerchief and he buried his face in it, remembered grief and present joy and fear and peace all spilling out like cold, pure water.

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