The Rule
“What is your name?”
The girl curtsied low, her hands trembling as they clutched the hem of her plain dress. “N-Nagma, My Lady.”
Her voice was soft, yet raw with strain—like a bird trying to sing with a caged throat.
Inayat's tone gentled, though her poise remained untouched. “You have come from far. Do not fear. You will find kindness here, if you show respect.”
Nagma lifted her eyes briefly—then dropped them again, her voice catching. “Y-Yes, My Lady. I will serve with loyalty. I… I will not fail you.”