Always be beautiful, that was our motto. Never be ugly.

It had been ingrained in us, and when guests came, we all dressed to greet the guests. Except for me, the tower was my home; they would come to greet me. It was quite convenient.

Cecile and Sabine came to visit me as they did routinely before the guests arrived. Cecile was in a dark purple ottoman silk dress, and Sabine in a white empire gown. While her yellow hair was tied up and threaded with ribbons and pearls, Cecile's fell over her shoulder plainly like a silver veil.

Sabine had rouge on her cheeks and painted her lips, too, but Cecile was plain and pale. That was her beauty; melancholic and distant, like a sickly princess who might fall over at any moment.

"Have you seen them?" I asked. Both girls nodded.

"The Elders are showing them around the estate, and we have introduced ourselves. I expect them to come and be introduced to you tonight," Sabine reported.

"But you can't deal with five men at once," Cecile whispered hoarsely. "I have asked Agnes about it. She says you don't have to kill them."

"I don't have to kill them? Agnes said that?" I laughed in disbelief. That's impossible. Agnes loved me killing humans more than I liked drinking them.

And she wasn't even the one who was getting full after each meal.

Cecile looked uncomfortable, as she always did.

"No, it's not that. She says she wants you to kill only one of them, after they are done with their research."

"Only one?"

"To scare the others," she continued. "Show them what a mistake they made, make them live with the guilt of surviving, and spread the news that one shall not mess with the Butterfly Clan."

"But why would she do that?" I asked.

Cecile slowly turned around and walked to where a framed butterfly hung on my wall. It was a horrible thing—the poor butterfly was dark red like withered rose petals with spots, and its wings were enormous in proportion to its small body, yet the pinned wings were all that was holding it up.

Her fingers stroked the glass it was trapped beneath.

"Agnes is scared, Margery. She has realized how close the humans are. She needs a way to scare them away—without us leaving our confinement."

"Confinement?" This time it was Sabine's turn to be puzzled. Cecile often spoke in riddles. It wasn't new.

"That's why, if you are fine with the new arrangement, Margery, Agnes wants you to be kind to whoever will be sent to you." Cecile turned back to look at me, bleary eyes reminding me of a lake reflecting a grey sky. "Please."

"Kind?" The word was strange on my lips. Kind only meant one thing in our language. It was that.

"Surely you don't mean—!" Sabine shouted.

"It's fine, Sabine."

They turned to look at me. Cecile had no expression on her face. Sabine was holding in her anger, biting her lips.

I stood up from my chair, my dark skirt trailing on the ground.

"I don't mind, but I have a request in return. If I am to let the rest of them live anyway, I would like to leave the tower during their visit."

Sabine's eyes widened.

"But why?"

"Even butterflies want to stretch their wings sometimes, don't they?"

Cecile smiled, but it held no warmth. None of our smiles ever did, except Sabine when she was with me in my room.

"Very well, I will ask the Elders to give you permission."

She walked away, and Sabine sent me a look before she followed. A pitying yet helpless look. I was used to that look, and although I knew she didn't mean ill, I was sick of it.

I looked outside the tower and at the human children that were running outside, close to our land, their dogs chasing them as they waved around strange toys carved from wood or sewn from fabric. They were beginning to forget how dangerous we were. The boundary that had been set centuries ago.

They were right: the Elders were becoming useless.

And that's why I was no longer going to be a pawn for them. One day, they will die, as all of us do, even if it will take a long time. When that time comes, I will become the matriarch, because Cecile is not fit to be it. Sabine would be my ally, as well our younger sisters, Adalyn, Bernadette, and Lark.

And then Primrose would not matter.

And then I would no longer have to be caged.

A drop of rain fell. Then two. Then three, four, and five.

The children outside began to scramble around before running back to their town. I smiled, glad of the eyesores leaving.

It seemed as though the skies were agreeing with me.

***

Agnes, Rowena, and Selma came to my room that night, seemingly after they had the talk with our guests. They were all in black, the color the Elders wore to separate from us.

They filed in quietly and Rowena and Selma lit more candles in my room so there was more light, and then I sat on my chair.

"Margery, it is nice to see you doing as well as always," Agnes began first, sitting down in the only other chair in the room.

Only she ever sat there—it was a horribly pompous gold-rimmed chair that had now grown dusty. Rowena and Selma followed, heads held down in silence, and sat on the red divan across from me.

"Cecile told me your plan," I said instead. She smiled, strands of grey hair in her face. Her hair was grey, but her face looked hardly older than mine, although she was reaching a century.

"I know. Now let's not be impatient, my dear Margery." I clenched my jaw but didn't respond. "Tell us, is there a reason you want to leave the tower? Do you not like your job? It's an envious job, you know. Some girls, like our lovely Primrose, would kill to lounge in a beautiful room overlooking such a beautiful view and have meals all the time."

She was right. But I couldn't let it end here.

"You're right, Agnes," I said, "but I might be able to be kinder to him that way."

A cruel, disgusting smirk replaced her fake smile.

"Kind. You do know what that means, don't you."

"I do." I paused for a moment. "I will seduce him. And love him. And make him love me. I will have his heart—and I will bear his child."

"Oh my!" Rowena gasped. "She's agreed!"

"Another child for our dying clan!" Selma added, happily.

Even Agnes looked pleased.

"So, Margery, if I agree to let you leave the tower during the time of their stay, which they said might be all of winter, or more, depending on how the work goes, you will promise to give us a child?"

"Of course."

"Remember," Agnes said, "if it is a boy, it will be killed. If it is a daughter, I will raise it."

"Of course." She seemed more excited than ever, light eyes almost gleaming.

"Oh, my darling Margery. Your child—I already know she will be beautiful, just like you." She walked over to me, and I smelled it. The awful smell of something rotting and musky and—

She touched my cheek and brought her face close to mine. I was trying hard to not flinch. "She will be so, so, so beautiful. And she will be mine."

"Yes. She will be yours."

My voice had started to sound hesitant. I couldn't look into her eyes any longer. The fear. The memories. Those nights being locked up in the tower and having arms and legs thrown into my room—

Agnes stroked my cheeks one last time and let go.

I finally started breathing again, and I was sure she could hear it. There was a satisfied look behind her eyes.

"Oh, she's so cruel!" Rowena chirped.

"Giving away her daughter so easily for freedom!" Selma laughed gleefully.

When they reached a certain age, they go senile and become nothing but parrots for the matriarch. After all, they aren't meant to live that long.

"Oh, let's not speak anymore on this matter." Agnes told them. "I'm sure Sabine would be heartbroken to know her older sister is bearing a child so soon."

Sabine.

I hadn't thought of how she would feel.

Earlier in the day, she had looked—well, devastated, and I was sure she was. Giving birth raised your status, but to have a child that was not pureblood was also shameful.

However, our clan had no choice. Our youngest sister, Lark, was already ten. It had been ten years since a new birth. Vampires no longer came here. And it was still fine, because out of us, five weren't pure: Cecile, Sabine, Adalyn, Bernadette, and Lark.

I looked up at Agnes, and finally dared to glare at her.

"Sabine has nothing to do with this," I hissed.

Her expression fell, and for a moment the fear returned again. At times like that, I wondered what she thought. I wondered what she wanted to do to me. Choke me, pull my hair, or was she at a complete loss?

She coldly turned away without a word to me.

"Rowena, Selma," she called. The two jumped up.

"Yes, yes!"

"Shall we prepare your bed?"

They hurried after her like two dogs, and I looked at my hands. My anger had started to subside. Sabine, Agnes, and everything disappeared from my mind.

A child for my freedom and soon to have power?

There was no cheaper price than that.