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Chapter 17

Merlin struggled to focus despite the pain in his chest, wracking his brains frantically for a solution.

There were two of them, and two goblets. One cup was poisoned, one was not. All the liquid must be drunk. They could each only drink from one goblet. What was he missing?

Across from him, he could see Arthur deep in thought. The prince drummed his fingers idly on the table, making Merlin's head pound.

"Will you stop tapping?" he pleaded, clutching his head. "I can't concentrate!"

Indignant, Arthur opened his mouth to protest. Noting Merlin's sickly pallor, however, he thought better of it.

"Sorry," he said absently, folding his arms on the table. "I didn't realize I was doing it...What?" he added, when Merlin's jaw dropped.

"Did you just apologize to me?"

"No," he said hastily, flushing.

Merlin smirked.

"Alright, maybe I did." he amended. "You can wipe that grin off your face, Merlin. I won't be making a habit of it."

"Pity." sighed Merlin. "And here I thought you were becoming less of a prat."

"I am not a prat!"

"That's just what a prat would say."

Arthur swore under his breath. "You know, Merlin, sometimes I wonder why I put up with you."

Merlin grinned. "Shall I drink the poison, then? Kill two birds with one stone?"

Arthur pretended to consider it. "No," he said at last. "I can't afford to get rid of a regular in the stocks. The people would revolt."

Merlin was about to fire back with an insult of his own, but was distracted by the swarm of black dots dancing before his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but all it did was make the world spin around him.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground, a slightly panicked looking Arthur kneeling over him.

"What happened?" he mumbled groggily. He tried to sit up, but Arthur stopped him.

"Easy," said Arthur firmly, pushing him back to the ground. "You just passed out. Take it slow."

Merlin felt like he was going to be sick. He took deep steadying breaths, willing himself not to vomit all over Arthur. Dying or not, he knew who'd be cleaning that armour.

Arthur felt Merlin's forehead. "You're burning up," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know how you managed to survive the journey here."

"Wasn't so bad when I left," he croaked. "Got worse."

"I can see that," said Arthur dryly. He looked up at Anhora, who had not moved from his position all this time. "How are we supposed to take this test if he can't even see straight? At least heal him temporarily!"

The old man shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, Arthur Pendragon. It is not in my power. Only the test can save him. I suggest you hurry. Your friend is running out of time."

"He can bring a famine down upon the land, but he can't cure a fever," Arthur muttered to himself. With a sigh, he turned back to Merlin. "Can you make it back to the table?"

"I think so." He strained to sit up, but his head rose only a few inches above the ground before he sank back, exhausted.

Arthur held out his hand. Merlin hesitated, then took it, allowing Arthur to heave him to his feet.

"Thanks," he said quietly, as Arthur eased him back into his seat at the table."

Arthur nodded. "You'd do the same for me," he mumbled, flushing red again.

From his belt, he withdrew his waterskin, and offered it to Merlin. "There's still some left. You need to drink."

Merlin gaped at him.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, looking alarmed. "Are you feeling worse?"

"Can you say that again?"

"Say what? 'Are you feeling worse'?"

"No!" said Merlin impatiently. "Before! What did you say to me before?"

Arthur stared at him. Slowly, as though talking to a simpleton, he repeated, "I said, 'you need to drink'."

"Arthur, that's it!" said Merlin excitedly. "Don't you see? All the liquid must be drunk. Both of us don't need to drink from the goblets. Only one of us has to!"

Arthur sighed. "What are you babbling about, Merlin?"

"Anhora said all the liquid must be drunk, right?"

"Yes..." said Arthur warily.

"He also said each of us may only drink from one goblet. But he didn't say we have to both drink. Only that we can."

"So you're saying‒"

"Combine the liquid from both cups into a single goblet. That way, we know for certain it's poisoned, and all the liquid gets drunk."

Arthur shook his head in wonder. "You never cease to amaze me, Merlin. You're a lot smarter than you look."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Well…"

Suddenly, Merlin's eyes widened. "Look out!" he shouted, pointed to something behind Arthur.

Arthur whirled around, grabbing his sword from the table.

There was nothing there.

A sudden clink of metal jerked his attention back to the table. Merlin had grabbed Arthur's goblet and was quickly pouring the liquid into his own cup.

"Merlin, don't!" He held out his hand. "Give it to me. I'll drink it!"

Merlin backed away so that he and the cup were out of Arthur's reach. "As if I'd let you!"

His hand trembled as he raised the goblet to his lips.

"Listen to me!" Arthur pleaded.

A spark of mischief flashed in Merlin's eye. "You know me, Arthur. Since when do I ever listen to you?"

"Merlin, no!" Arthur shouted, jumping to his feet. Before he could stop him, Merlin had tossed the contents of the cup into his mouth.

Merlin smiled sadly at Arthur, who gazed back, horrified. Then, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground.