Little Moments: Little Moments, #1

By Megan Derr

A collection of ficbits initially posted on Patreon, short tales of life after the happily ever after of the official stories. This volume contains shorts for:

Spellweaver
Backwoods Asylum
Love You Like a Romance Novel
Kiss the Rain
Jewels of Bangkok
The Toad Prince
The Witch in the Woods
Hold Still
The Rose and the Fox
Brightleaf
The Troll
Black Magic

• Language: English
• Publisher: Megan Derr
• Release date: Apr 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393669180

Megan Derr

Megan is a long-time resident of queer romance and keeps herself busy reading and writing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she’s not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her wife and cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers and can be found all over the internet.meganderr.compatreon.com/meganderrmeganderr.blogspot.comfacebook.com/[e-mail]@meganaderr

Book preview

Little Moments

Volume One

By Megan Derr

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Sasha L. Miller

Cover by Megan Derr

This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

First Edition April 2020

Copyright © 2020 by Megan Derr

Printed in the United States of America

Miscommunication

SPELLWEAVER

Johan looked up from the papers he was skimming as his office door opened. Only one person would dare to enter without knocking, and sadly it wasn't his lovely young lover looking for an afternoon tryst.

He smiled anyway, and set down his papers, rising to bow in greeting. Your Highness.

Prince Trisar scoffed as always at Johan's manners, the gold thread in his lace cuffs and at his throat glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Are you busy?

Never too busy for you, Johan replied with a smile.

Most of the royal family was far too serious for their own good, leaving Prince Trisar the very odd one out. He was the size of a house and built like a fortress, but where his family all dressed like they expected to attend a funeral at any given moment, Trisar's style had more in common with a boudoir. Or a cake.

They'd been friends from the moment they'd met as boys, Johan hiding from doing yet another pile of syrup-sticky dishes, Trisar sneaking off with some of his sisters' old dresses to try on.

He wasn't wearing a dress today, though his thigh-length jacket could nearly pass for one of the scandalously short dresses the people on Lovers' Lane wore to draw in customers. It was dyed in purple ombre, with a delicate, barely visible swirl of silver roses and vines. His long, long black hair was bound up in an elegant twist and decorated with purple roses, and amethysts dripped from his ears and gleamed on his fingers.

The only contrast to the ensemble were the green gloves he wore, precisely like Johan's. The second child of the royal family—the spare, as people loved to call him—it was Trisar's duty to oversee magic, ensure the laws were obeyed, violators suitably punished, and so forth.

As a child, Johan's aspirations had been no greater than getting a job away from the kitchen—maybe something as lofty as head footman. But after he'd accidentally become Trisar's best friend, he'd been drawn into the world of magic and proven to have a knack for it—a knack the queen had not wanted overlooked.

And now he was the second most powerful magic user in the kingdom. Only the Lord Breaker, Kirra, was stronger than him, and Trisar was a very close third. Kirra handled the broader aspects of the job—international tangles, mostly, and some of the thornier and more delicate matters involving nobles. Johan dealt with local problems, and everyone not a noble.

Trisar smiled. I need your advice on an important matter.

Intriguing. Johan shoved away from the desk and walked with him out of the office and through the halls, until they came to one of the more remote courtyards—not private, per se, but enough of a walk that few people bothered to use it unless specifically ordered or invited to be there.

Currently, it looked as though it had been set up for some private little gathering, where people could meet one another, chat for a time, nibble on sweets and such. Johan hated them, and avoided them as much as he possibly could. More often than not, he sent one of his secretaries or warlocks to stand in for him—they enjoyed the chance to make powerful connections, he enjoyed being able to get real work done.

Who do we have here, then? he asked, brows lifting, because it wasn't hard to pick out the three princes and solitary princess in the mix, and the ten or so people who comprised their various entourages. What's being negotiated today, and why would I have any useful advice?

My marriage, Trisar said with a sigh. I'm to pick one of the four by the end of the month, or else my mother will do the choosing herself, and frankly I'd rather go about naked the rest of my life. Everyone else can rattle off the political reasons I should marry; I'd like your non-political input.

Johan laughed briefly at the idea of Trisar forsaking clothes, then sobered and gave the candidates a more thorough going over. The princess seemed… well, honestly, a lot like Trisar. In demeanor and dress they could have been siblings, though her skin was moonglow pale and her hair the color of rubies. I'm not sure you and the princess would get along in the child-making way, which I'm sure is an expectation piled upon her.

Oh, quite, Trisar replied. She's a lot of fun, but every time I think about kissing her, I feel vaguely ill, like I'm getting amorous with a sister or cousin. She feels the same. I suppose alcohol and determination would get us through the matter, but why make us both miserable? Still, she's honestly the least depressing of the lot.

Interesting, Johan said. What about the dark, brooding one in the corner? He's beautiful.

Trisar sighed, eyes falling on the man in question, and he looked for a moment deeply sad. Arran. Smart, good leader, would be bringing an alliance with Kartermine with him, and a personal connection to the Sharmora, which is worth a kingdom all on its own. But he hates me; every time we're in the same room he glares so hard I fear I'll catch on fire. No idea what I did to earn his contempt, but I have enough of it for three of me. A pity, because I'm told he's perfectly lovely, if somewhat stand-offish, when I'm not around.

Hmm… Johan said thoughtfully. What about the remaining two?

Before Trisar could reply however, two more people came into view, new arrivals to the private fete. Happiness burst in Johan's chest and spread through his body as he watched Myka, who practically clung to Lady Sartin out of terror as she introduced him to some of the local nobility in attendance, as well as the visiting royals.

He's a darling, Trisar said with another sigh. I wish someone looked at me the way you and Myka look at each other.

Johan was fairly certain that given half a chance, Trisar would look at Arran in such a way, but he forbore comment—and then forgot, as sharp, cutting words filled the clearing and one of the foreign princes gave Myka a ringing slap.

I beg your pardon! Trisar bellowed, and all heads immediately turned and snapped up, dozens of eyes filling with horror as everyone realized the man of the hour had quietly been watching them for who knew how long.

Trisar grabbed the edge of the balcony, swung neatly over it, dropped to hang from the edge, and then smoothly dropped to the ground.

Johan lifted his eyes to the sky, but at the curt jerk of Trisar's head, deftly repeated the ridiculous maneuver. Gods knew they were old hands at doing stupid things in and around the palace, though leaping balconies had been easier when he was twenty.

Myka, Johan said softly, crossing over to him and pulling him close. He gently grasped