Lie to him

"I got separated from my garden," you say. "We were looking for nectar and fruit, and I wandered too far." Mentioning food makes your stomach growl. You hesitate. "You don't have any nectar, do you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't," Malik says. You hear him move a little, his breaths growing shallow. "I have a bottle of honeyed wine somewhere..." As your eyes adjust to the gloomy interior, you can just make out his figure leaning over and reaching beneath the carriage seat. "Ah, here it is." He holds the small bottle out toward you.

"Honey is good," you say, taking it from him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he replies, groaning softly as he sits back up.

"Are you all right?" you ask, struggling for a moment with the cork before working it free with an audible pop.

"Not particularly," Malik says with a sigh. "I'm dying, have been since the day I was born. Nobody expected me to live this long, but I'm tougher than I look." He chuckles, a weak, breathless sound. "Even so, I don't think it will be too much longer."

"I'm so sorry," you say. You raise the bottle to your lips and take an experimental sip. Wow! You've never tasted honey like this. You drink deep, smacking your lips as your head begins to spin, a warmth spreading to your fingers and toes.

"It's okay," Malik says. "I've made peace with my **** a long time ago. I just wish I had been able to sire an heir, but it looks like all my attempts have been in vain. Now my cousins will tear each other apart, trying to get their hands on my estate. A bunch of greedy bastards, if you ask me..." He continues talking, but you don't hear any of it. Your eyes grow heavy and you slump over on the soft seat, then everything goes black.