Arthur latched onto Merlin's wrist weakly. "Merlin?"
His head felt cocooned in cotton, every inch stuffed and filled and his eyes burned and itched too much. He had to close them again. The last time he'd been this weak.
Honestly, he couldn't recall the last time he felt this ill, or was ill at all. Perhaps that Martha woman had unintentionally poisoned him. He certainly felt like his body was dying. He ached in ways worse than he ever did after even the toughest battle.