Samantha Shannon returns to the beloved universe of The Priory of the Orange Tree with Among the Burning Flowers, a prequel that serves as both an accessible entry point for newcomers and a devastating emotional gut-punch for series veterans. Set five hundred years before the events of the original novel, this novella chronicles the catastrophic fall of Yscalin and the awakening of the ancient wyrm Fýredel, establishing the foundations for one of modern fantasy’s most compelling dragon sagas.
Having previously gifted readers with the expansive The Priory of the Orange Tree (2019) and the ambitious A Day of Fallen Night (2023), Shannon demonstrates her mastery of political fantasy with this intimate yet sweeping tale. Where the previous books painted with broad strokes across continents, Among the Burning Flowers focuses its lens on three interconnected lives caught in the web of draconic awakening, creating a more concentrated narrative that loses none of Shannon’s signature complexity.
Three Voices, One Devastating Symphony
The story unfolds through three distinct perspectives, each representing different strata of society facing the same existential threat. Marosa Vetalda, the imprisoned princess of Yscalin, emerges as Shannon’s most tragic creation yet. Confined to her tower by her manipulative father King Sigoso, Marosa’s chapters burn with claustrophobic desperation as she navigates palace intrigue while the kingdom crumbles around her. Her relationship with her betrothed, Aubrecht Lievelyn of Mentendon, provides the emotional anchor of the narrative—a love that transcends political necessity but remains forever out of reach.
Shannon’s portrayal of Aubrecht Lievelyn reveals depths that the original novel only hinted at. Here, we see the Red Prince as a young man grappling with inherited trauma and the crushing weight of leadership. His internal struggles with anxiety and his fierce protective love for his siblings create a portrait of vulnerability that makes his eventual transformation into the stoic ruler we know from Priory all the more poignant. The scenes where he must choose between love and duty showcase Shannon’s ability to make political necessity feel genuinely heartbreaking.
Estina Melaugo represents the common folk caught in these political machinations. Her journey from desperate outlaw to dragon hunter provides grounding for the more ethereal royal intrigue. Through her eyes, we witness the practical horror of draconic creatures awakening and the brutal reality of survival when civilization collapses. Her relationship with Liyat offers the book’s most authentic romantic subplot, grounded in shared danger and mutual respect rather than political convenience.
The Awakening of Ancient Terror
Shannon’s treatment of dragons remains unparalleled in contemporary fantasy. Her Fýredel is no misunderstood creature seeking friendship with humans—he is apocalypse incarnate, alien intelligence wrapped in volcanic fury. The scenes where Marosa confronts the ancient wyrm crackle with otherworldly menace, and Shannon’s decision to give Fýredel motivations that remain fundamentally incomprehensible to human minds makes him genuinely terrifying rather than simply destructive.
The political machinations surrounding the draconic awakening showcase Shannon’s understanding of how power operates in crisis. King Sigoso’s transformation from calculating monarch to Fýredel’s puppet raises uncomfortable questions about collaboration and survival that resonate beyond the fantasy setting. The gradual corruption of Yscalin’s institutions, from the forced conversion of citizens to the desecration of religious sites, creates a horrifying parallel to historical examples of totalitarian transformation.
Romance Amidst Ruin
The romantic elements succeed because Shannon refuses to let love conquer all. Marosa and Aubrecht’s relationship, built through letters and brief meetings, demonstrates how genuine affection can develop even within arranged political marriages. Their correspondence reveals two intelligent, lonely young people finding solace in each other’s minds before their hearts follow. The inevitable dissolution of their betrothal when Yscalin falls to Fýredel provides one of the book’s most devastating emotional beats.
Similarly, Estina and Liyat’s relationship offers representation that feels organic rather than performative. Their partnership develops through shared survival rather than instalove, and their physical and emotional intimacy emerges naturally from mutual respect and understanding. Shannon’s handling of their LGBTQ+ relationship avoids both tragedy porn and unrealistic wish fulfillment, presenting a love story that exists within the harsh realities of their world without being defined by them.
Political Complexity and Moral Ambiguity
Where Among the Burning Flowers truly excels is in its exploration of impossible choices. Shannon presents characters with no good options, forcing readers to grapple with questions of collaboration, resistance, and survival. Marosa’s decision to don the iron helm and serve as Fýredel’s mouthpiece to protect her remaining people showcases the kind of moral complexity that elevates fantasy beyond simple good-versus-evil narratives.
The book’s treatment of religious faith under existential threat proves particularly compelling. The citizens of Yscalin must choose between their devotion to the Saint and survival under draconic rule, and Shannon refuses to provide easy answers about which choice represents virtue. The emergence of dragon-worshipping cults alongside continued secret faith creates a realistic portrait of how belief systems adapt under extreme pressure.
Masterful Prose with Minor Pacing Issues
Shannon’s prose remains her greatest strength, combining elegant formality with visceral immediacy. Her descriptions of Cárscaro’s volcanic landscape create an atmosphere of beauty perpetually on the edge of destruction, while her action sequences possess the kinetic energy necessary for scenes involving dragons and armed conflict. The author’s ability to shift registers between intimate character moments and sweeping political developments without losing coherence demonstrates considerable technical skill.
However, the novella’s compressed format occasionally works against its ambitious scope. Certain plot developments, particularly Estina’s rapid integration into Captain Harlowe’s crew, feel rushed compared to the more leisurely character development in the royal storylines. The time constraints also mean some secondary characters remain somewhat underdeveloped, though Shannon’s efficient characterization ensures each serves their narrative purpose effectively.
Visual Splendor and Series Context
The inclusion of Rovina Cai’s illustrations adds significant value, particularly for depicting the majesty and terror of draconic creatures. These visual elements enhance rather than distract from the narrative, providing readers with concrete images to anchor Shannon’s elaborate descriptions.
For series veterans, Among the Burning Flowers provides essential context for understanding the political landscape of The Priory of the Orange Tree. The fall of Yscalin explains much about the power dynamics and fear that drive later events, while the glimpses of Aubrecht’s character development illuminate his actions in the original novel. Newcomers can appreciate the story as a complete narrative while gaining access to Shannon’s broader universe.
A Worthy Addition to a Stellar Series
Among the Burning Flowers succeeds as both political fantasy and romantic tragedy, delivering emotional devastation alongside spectacular world-building. Shannon’s ability to make readers care deeply about characters while maintaining the vast scope necessary for epic fantasy remains unmatched among contemporary authors. While the novella’s length prevents it from achieving the full complexity of its predecessors, it more than compensates through focused storytelling and genuine emotional impact.
The book serves as a perfect bridge between the ancient history explored in A Day of Fallen Night and the contemporary events of The Priory of the Orange Tree, while standing alone as a complete and satisfying narrative. Shannon continues to prove that fantasy can tackle serious themes of power, love, and sacrifice without sacrificing the genre’s capacity for wonder and excitement.
Similar Reads and Final Recommendation
Readers drawn to Shannon’s blend of political intrigue and dragon fantasy should explore Rebecca Roanhorse’s Black Sun series, RF Kuang’s The Poppy War trilogy, or Tasha Suri’s The Jasmine Throne. For those seeking similar romantic complexity within fantasy settings, Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor or Martha Wells’ The Books of the Raksura offer comparable emotional depth.
Among the Burning Flowers confirms Shannon’s position among fantasy’s premier voices, offering both longtime fans and newcomers a story that burns with passion, politics, and the eternal human struggle against forces beyond comprehension. Despite minor pacing concerns, this prequel succeeds magnificently at its dual purpose: providing essential series context while delivering a standalone story of genuine power and beauty.