The Prince's Heart.

CHAPTER 1

Anan

The cool air of Mana kisses my face, it smells like rain, it smells like home. It has been a minute, after almost a decade I had eventually returned home from the US. The sun hadn't even set and I had already missed Atlanta, my home.

My eyes are fixated at the palace, the palace where the women and men of my family had been serving since the establishment of this country. Mum likes to say all Farsi shall serve the palace but I desperately prayed that the bloodline ended with me.

I couldn't comprehend how our family were okay with being servants for the whole of time. Yes, the employment had changed, from being treated as utter slaves to having the ideal salary, whatever it had become, it would never change the fact that the black people in our country would always serve.

"Ana". A high pitch voice interrupts my thoughts and I look to see it's Razan, my cousin and closest friend, the only member of my family I tolerated. I don't get a chance to reply to her because she engulfs me in a comfy hug. Her hair smelling, the familiar scent of incense.

"I missed you so much" I muffle, tears cloud in my eyes and I hate how easily emotional I was, as much as I hated this palace, some people made it tolerable.

"You've changed so much" her eyes scan over my body and I hug myself insecure because of the attention.

"In a good way?" I arch my eyebrows.

"Perfect." she jumps before hugging me all over again. Her energy was contagious even for such a party popper like me.

Razan drags me to the Kitchen wing before I could even protest. Shivers run through my spine when all the eyes in the room turn to me, I didn't possess a stable relationship with any of my family.

Especially Mom.

Ever since Baba deserted us, our relationship ended. We were both broken by it and in some sort of way blamed each other for what happened. I wanted our relationship to be better but at this point, I knew I had lost both my parents.

"Welcome back Ayesha" My aunts come rushing towards me, some of them compliment my appearance, some can't wait for me to teach them all the great meals I had learned.  I was there for culinary school becoming an expert in digger cuisines, all that was sponsored by my mothers' close friend, The Queen.

The woman I was named after, the greatest of Mana. Queen Amira was the one person that treated us Farsi's as equal, the closest to being equal. Married to the King at the age of 17, to become his third wife, she had taken solace in the presence of the maids around, they were what clung her to sanity. She's the Queen of Mana as she is the leading wife, boring her husband nine sons, including the present Crown Prince Abdullah, and my best friend Latifa.

"Have you unpacked?" It's the first thing Mum says to me. I gulp, she couldn't even ask me how I was. I stifle a nod, after getting familiar with my room, I had gone to the garden to get some fresh air, that was where Razan found me.

"Show us what you learned in the states then" Mum gestures at the kitchen.  Deciding to be the bigger person I go over and hug her. "Nice to see you at Mama"

Mustering up her only maternal bone, she puts her around wrapping my small frame. After she pulls away she smiles before handing me the pale apron, I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

The way it was before I left four years ago, that was how it was now. The typical royal kitchen, after cooking the chefs would always leave the meal in the vessel, the maids assigned to a specific royal would take it from there. That was were our work stopped.  There were about 250 maids at the palace including Chefs and launderers.