'Among the Burning Flowers' review: A world that's both lyrical and brutal

Among the Burning Flowers is a haunting and beautifully crafted prequel to The Priory of the Orange Tree, set in the politically volatile kingdom of Yscalin. As ancient dragons begin to stir from centuries of slumber, the novella follows three characters — Marosa Vetalda, a princess imprisoned by her father; Aubrecht Lievelyn, a prince burdened by duty and love; and Estina Melaugo, a hardened dragon hunter navigating a world on the edge of collapse. With the great wyrm Fýredel awakening and the Draconic Army poised to rise again, Shannon weaves a tale of resilience, betrayal, and tragic love that sets the stage for the epic saga to come. Rich in atmosphere and emotional depth, this novella paves the way for the opening of The Priory of the Orange Tree.

The story unfolds in Yscalin, a kingdom with molten lava flowing through it, ancient mines, and secrets. It is here that Marosa lives as a prisoner in her own palace, shackled by the cold indifference of her father, King Sigoso III, and waiting to marry her betrothed, Aubrecht, the Red Prince of Mentendon, to finally escape her suffocating prison. Her quiet rebellion and longing for freedom form the emotional backbone of the story. Shannon portrays the young Marosa with exquisite sensitivity, capturing the tension between duty and desire, between hope and despair. Aubrecht is a man trying to build a better world while navigating the impossible politics of his time. His love for Marosa is tender and restrained, and their relationship — conducted largely through letters and internal musings — is a masterclass in romantic tension and offers deeper insight into the political and personal stakes that ripple through The Priory of the Orange Tree.

In stark contrast to the royal court is Estina, whose life is one of survival, violence, and hard-earned freedom. Her journey offers a visceral counterpoint to the palace intrigue of Yscalin and adds texture and tension to the narrative. Her relationship with Liyat, a fellow hunter, is tender and understated, grounding her arc in emotional truth.

The true terror of the novella lies in the awakening of Fýredel, the great wyrm whose emergence signals the beginning of the end. Shannon’s depiction of Fýredel’s rise is cinematic and chilling. The eruption of wyverns from Mount Fruma, the skies darkened by wings, and the lavender fields set ablaze — all are rendered in prose that sings and scorches. The horror is not just in the dragons themselves, but in the betrayal that enables them. King Sigoso’s descent into madness and his alliance with Fýredel is a masterstroke of tragic storytelling, echoing great betrayals of myth.

Shannon’s world-building is, as always, impeccable. From the warm streets of Cárscaro to the sulfurous depths of the dragon caves, every location feels lived-in and layered. The political and religious structures of Yscalin are intricately drawn, revealing how faith can be weaponised and how power can corrupt. What makes Among the Burning Flowers truly exceptional is its emotional resonance. Shannon doesn’t just tell a story — she invites readers to feel it. The grief, the longing, the quiet acts of defiance — all are rendered with a poet’s touch. The novella’s brevity only enhances its impact; every scene, every line, feels purposeful and poignant.

In Among the Burning Flowers, Samantha Shannon returns to the world of the Roots of Chaos with a novella that is as devastating as it is dazzling. For fans of The Priory of the Orange Tree, this novella is essential reading. It doesn’t merely expand the lore — it lays the foundation of it, offering a tragic and tender portrait of a world on the brink of annihilation. This prequel deepens the character arcs and sets the stage for the epic that follows. For newcomers, it offers a compelling entry point into Shannon’s world — a story that stands on its own while hinting at greater things to come. With fire-breathing dragons stirring from their ancient slumber and political tensions simmering beneath memories of sunlit lavender fields, waterfalls and ephemeral joys, Shannon crafts a tale that is both intimate and epic, lyrical and brutal, making this a must-read.