They'd come in the night, when Alizeh and her sole surviving parent had been abed.

The two tried, of course, to escape, but a wooden rafter had fallen from the ceiling,
pinning them both to the ground. Had it not been for the blow she'd taken to the head,
her mother might've been strong
enough to lift the beam from their bodies that night.
For hours, Alizeh screamed.
For what felt like an eternity, she screamed. And yet, their home had been so expertly
hidden away that there was no one to hear the sound. Alizeh clung to her mother's body
as it burned, taking the embroidered handkerchief from her parent's limp hand and
gathering it up in her own fist.
Alizeh had remained with her dead mother until daylight. If not for the eventual
disintegration of the beam that trapped her body, Alizeh would've stayed there forever,
would've died of dehydration alongside her mother's charred flesh. Instead, she
emerged from the inferno without a scratch, her skin pristine, her clothes in tatters, the
handkerchief all she'd possessed intact.
It was the second time in her life she'd survived a fire unscathed, and Alizeh had
wondered then, as she often did, whether the ice that ran through her veins would ever
truly matter.
She startled, suddenly, at the rattle of the back door.
Alizeh dared not breathe as she got to her feet. She pressed herself against the wall,
tried to calm her racing heart. Her mind knew she had little reason to be afraid here,
within the protection of this grand home, but her frayed nerves could not comprehend
such logic. Upon entering Baz House she'd been single-minded in her haste to reach
the fire; in the process she'd forgotten to lock the kitchen door.
She wondered whether to risk doing so now.
In a split second, Alizeh made the decision. She flew to the door and threw the bolt just
as the handle began to turn,
and when the mechanical movement came to a sudden halt, she sagged with relief. She
fell back against the door, clasping both hands to her chest.
She could hardly catch her breath.
The knock that came next was so unexpected she jumped a foot in the air. She looked
around for signs of servants lurking, but none appeared. One glance at the clock and
she was reminded: anyone with sense was now abed. She alone was left to manage
the destitute stragglers no doubt seeking shelter from the rain. It broke Alizeh's heart to
deny them relief from the desperation she understood only too well, but she also knew
she had no choice—not unless she wanted to be tossed into the street alongside
them.
The knock came again, and this time she felt it, felt the door shake with it. She pressed
her back harder against the wood, keeping it from moving in its frame. There was a brief
reprieve.