At the strike of 12

It was five minutes before twelve. The King and Prince Aiden had been speaking for a few minutes. The prince had said that he would give a sign. What that sign was precise, she didn't know. But she did know that it could happen any second now. The guards didn't pay her any mind, but Cinderella felt anxious nonetheless. Cinderella, the prince, and the king all stood on a little platform. From there they had a good view of the ballroom. She could see the face of The Boss, and Cinderella felt more anxious every second.

Then there it was. The prince laid his hand on the back of his father. He nudged him forward, and only the people who paid close attention saw that the prince and his feet were a bit too close for comfort. The prince looked over his shoulder, and for a split second, his and Cinderella's eyes crossed. This is it. This is the sign.

Prince Aiden let his father trip, and almost immediately, the guards behind the platform came rushing forward. Cinderella's anxiety melted away, and her hands stopped shaking. The crown was unguarded, and she took her chance. She leaped forwards, took the crown, and sprinted away. The whole time, The Boss had a close eye on her and was already running.

The clock stroke once.

The first one. Cinderella had to hurry. The guards were already after her, and Cinderella clutched the crown against the dress. Her glass slippers clinked against the marble floors. The music stopped, someone was screaming, and at least ten guards were after her. Adrenalin came into play, and it made her fly. Her breath was even, her heart rate a bit too high but still manageable. The doors to freedom were still open, but she had to hurry. The flock of guards was closing in and shouting that the guards at the door to close those.

The guards at the entrance looked like they had just woken up from a nap and were too late. Cinderella hurried down the stairs. Those d*mn stairs. Cinderella swore to herself to never take on a job that involved stairs ever again. Her heart was in her throat, and sweat was everywhere. The clock stroke again. Was it the third or the fourth time already? Cinderella had lost count.

'Damn child! Hurry up!' She could hear The Boss shouting and curse at her. She ran and her feet carried her down the stairs.

The clock stroke again.

She was already downstairs and almost leaped into the carriage that was already waiting for them. She saw the angry face of The Boss and almost wanted to turn back. But the doors of the carriage slammed shut, and they were off. Out of the king's garden, through the gates, and into the open night air. Cinderella still held the crown against her body and handed it over to The Boss. She looked pleased enough. The mission was a success, even with the delay.

'You did good tonight. In and out, no traces of us. Good job.'

Cinderella celebrated her compliments in silence. It wasn't until the morning that she realized she had lost something. Her shoe.