Delia was again brought to the Governor's residence. He had requested her presence early in the morning to break their fast together and go over the details of the upcoming meeting with Mr Böhm. However, something was amiss.

"Your daughter is not joining us?" She asked when she noticed the table had been set for two, causing the elderly man to avert his gaze, grief settling upon his face.

"She has been taken by the pirates."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The woman expressed her sincere condolences to the man. "I'd absolutely understand if you want to cancel the meeting."

The Governor shook his head. "I still have to uphold my responsibilities."

Delia nodded in understanding, resuming to take a bite of her bread in silence. It took everything in her willpower not to wolf down the food as she was almost starving. The meals she had been served in prison could have barely been considered as such, seeing as they consisted of nothing but a spoiled loaf of bread and half cooked meat.

"The Commodore told me you were injured," Swann made an attempt to break the silence and make conversation. "What happened?"

"I was attacked," she lied almost instantly. She figured telling him the truth about dislocating her arm while attempting to catch the keys would do her more harm than good, thus she decided to fabricate a story that played more in her favor. "Two pirates came, searching for the armory. One attacked Jack Sparrow, while the other came after me."

The color drained from the Governor's face as he imagined all kinds of terrors a pirate would inflict upon a lone woman in a cell.

"He pulled my arm through the cell, while screaming and laughing at me," she continued, her expression unreadable as she avoided the man's gaze. "He tried to-"

"Please, you don't have to continue," Swann interrupted her with a sympathetic look on his face. "This must be hard for you."

"I'm just glad they couldn't find the keys to our cells," she added. "I don't want to know what they would have done to me if they did."

Her last sentence seemed to convince him and his gaze shifted. "You poor girl," he breathed with a look of pure horror on his face. He imagined his own daughter in the place of the young woman and guilt settled in his heart. "I promise you that won't happen again," he then said with determination.

When the breakfast was over, Norrington joined the two as the maids were cleaning up the dining table.

"Commodore," Swann welcomed him as he rose from his chair. "I need to speak with you."

While the Commodore was approaching, Swann gave one of the maids instructions to lead Delia to a guest room and help her prepare for the upcoming meeting so that the men could talk in private.

Once outside, the maid eyed her curiously and spoke, "You know, I have heard many tales of witches, but none such as you."

The woman in question raised an inquisitive brow at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for one," the maid began, "you don't wear rags or enchanted jewellery. Witches in tales paint themselves in demonic symbols to strengthen their power."

"You seem like you know all about them," Delia pointed out sarcastically, visibly annoyed by her chattering about witches.

"Why didn't you escape with your magic?" The maid asked. "You appeared out of thin air, so you must be able to leave the same way, right?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe I haven't eaten enough maids' hearts to fuel my power."

The maid gasped in shock, gaping at the woman in fright. "You eat the hearts of maids?!"

"Especially the talkative ones."

This seemed to shut her up for the rest of the way.

Soon after, they arrived at the door to a guest chamber, and the maid began to wordlessly prepare a bath for her.

"What's your name?" Delia finally decided to break the silence when it was done and the maid flinched.

"B-Bethany," she replied without ever looking up at her, her voice trembling.

"Would you mind cleaning my clothes while I bathe?"

Bethany raised her gaze hesitantly and stuttered, "A-are you sure y-you don't wish to wear something else?"

Delia sighed as she took off her blazer, handing it to the maid. "What else would there be for me to wear?"

"I-I… could pick out a dress for you, Madam," Bethany offered as she carefully grabbed the jacket. She seemed more confident as she did so, leading Delia to believe she must be knowledgeable about current fashion.

However, she refused the offer. "This is an important meeting. I need to be taken seriously by the men. A dress would make them perceive me as a simple woman and not an equal."

The maid hummed in response and fell into deep thought. "I think I might have an idea for that."

They had eventually settled on an agreement that Delia would at least try on whatever Bethany had in mind.