Vtorym noticed, all right. She noticed that the flurry of her two glowing lightsabers was weakening, faltering against the onslaught of Sam and his single blue blade, slicing and sure, cutting through the air with an anger and fury most uncommon to practice duels. The look in Sam Nevar's eyes was that of a champion, yes, but also something more. Jedi had trained themselves to master their emotions, to subdue them, to beat them into submission through the sheer power of their own will. Sam's expression told a story that words would have been too much to convey: I will win, the eyes said, at any cost. Yield now, or I assure you there will be consequences. She held her ground.
Suddenly, the female Jedi Knight felt a slash to her arm. With a yelp of pain, she backed away from the duel and clutched her arm to her chest, cradling a cauterized wound.
"I surrender!" she cried, fear suddenly filling her eyes. "You win, Knight Nevar. Finis!"