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Her work sometimes prevented him from seeing her as often as he wanted because she did do some travelling.Paul had tried to compare these two women in his mind and that was a challenge. In a number of ways they were similar, yet they were quite different in other ways.He had feelings for both of these ladies but he couldn’t quite say if he favored one over the other so far. He thought he was starting to lean toward one of his ladies. Maybe in time he could say that he did prefer one over the other for sure, but he would wait to see if that would happened. Until that time came if it ever did, he would just enjoy being with these two wonderful women.Paul sincerely hoped they would continue to enjoy being with him.EpiloguePaul was extremely satisfied with how things were going for him with both Emma and Stacy. He was regularly bedding Emma about once a week. Stacy was an excellent chime ringer. He was seeing both of them pretty regularly. That changed when he hit a speed bump in his. The campfire was small, true, but must have been spotted by the Palace Guards. Who could possibly be important enough to be left alone to camp on the King's doorstep, yet not be welcome to stay inside? Why not stay at an Inn? My curiosity was gnawing at my guts, like a ferret with a fish."Can't say I am busy, My Lady," I rubbed my chin. "As a caravan guard up and down these roads for my whole life, I think I would be a good guide. Never been as far south as Shilla, but at least you know from the fight, that I am trustworthy."As she considered this and seemed carefully choosing her words, I suddenly caught a whiff of something VILE. I glanced around the campsite again, expecting from the smell, something like a forgotten corpse."Good Gods, what is that?" The odor seemed to be coming from the pot in the fire. Leaving the Lady, I bent over the pot and pulling out a rag from my pack, wrapped my hand against the heat. "May I?"She shrugged.When I cracked the lid, steam escaped... along.
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He’s been telling me about it a lot lately,” Aaron’s whispering now. “And you regret it,” I finish his thought. He nods. I look at him, and everything starts to light up. He looks back at me, trying to ignore my eyes. They’re black in the sunlight, but they shine in the darkness allowing me to see as if it’s broad daylight. “I regret it with everything in me,” he says. “I can’t leave this life and disappear. My parents would be crushed.” “I know,” I reply flatly. “The first time is the hardest, but it gets easier.” “That’s kind of awful to say,” he whispers. “You just turn off your emotions for a while, and when they go back to living without you, you can turn them back on and realize they are happy again,” I say it with confidence but I know it isn’t true. When a loved one dies, you can still see them, until they enter their tunnel and they go into the afterlife. An afterlife you will never reach. “I can help you,” I tell him. “When the time comes I’ll walk you through it.” I.

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