Lion Head Mesa serekh

Nazli made a small sound, and startled herself; she had been drifting somewhere between awake and asleep, comforted by the warmth of the body next to her, and dizzy from the drink. It was a little sigh that roused her and then she could focus again upon the man's words, although she didn't fully grasp at what he was saying, not in her condition. She'd had too much too fast - her nerves making quick work of her ability to regulate her choices.
Now, go and rest.
He was dismissing her? She lifts her head and looks sleepily upon the gilded face of the pharaoh, blinks, and realizes she's not been the most invigorating company. What would her tutors think? Worse, what did he think? He had not tried anything - which she was pleased with, to be truthful - but Nazli knew she had a role to play and the delay, while desirable, only made her feel guilty.
She opened her mouth to say something, but heard Sokha's voice in the back of her mind: do not question him, he is our pharaoh. Do as you are bade, girl.
Nazli accepted the order. If he was happy then she did her job, although - she couldn't fathom how he could be pleased with her, as he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted, and their conversation was already dissolving in her mind. She gave a slow, practiced bow to him and pulled away from his embrace, then moved with an unsteady, almost weaving gait towards the door.
Uncertain how she felt in that moment, she was happy enough to be dismissed, and to find her way back to her own little alcove to sleep off the wine.